


And As Time Passes

by Gee_Writes



Category: Free!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Growing Old Together, Growing Up Together, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 47,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gee_Writes/pseuds/Gee_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's staring into eyes so green, so bright, he couldn't believe.</p><p>And it's only then that he realises; this is his best friend, his closest friend, Makoto.</p><p>And he loved him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 0

Nanase Akemi is already 6 months pregnant when she and her husband relocate to his childhood home of Iwatobi.

Takumi always wanted them to live here; the quiet seaside town the perfect place to raise children.  When his mother had started complaining about dizzy spells, it had been the perfect opportunity for them to move, and it was with excitement that they packed up their things.  It's a little hard moving from Tottori city, the conveniences of city life not quite able to be replaced; but she'd quit her office job once she'd realised maternity leave was far too short for her liking, her work friends dropping away with it.  Plus, she'd always loved the refreshed feeling the small town blossomed in her – the fresh air, the ocean – and she wanted that for her baby; to feel at ease within their home.

Nanase Chie was beautiful still, blue eyes catching the light like a cool pool of water.  She was dignified and graceful, and kind in everything she did.  When they had first met – when Takumi had introduced them so many years ago, in the very same place she now called her home – the first thing she'd done was hold her hand, smile and thank her for making her son so happy.  It was something Akemi still thought about, and even now it reassured her that Iwatobi was home.

It's a small town, the community close and friendly.  Nakamura-san down the lane is one of Chie's oldest friends, and she and the rest of the street welcomes them with food and gifts.  Unlike the suburbs where she grew up, people never lock their doors when they're home; and the easy-going friendliness and coming-and-going is quick to ease any worries otherwise.

Tachibana Hiroyuki and Sachiko live down the stairs; themselves recently moved into their first home – their dream house with two stories and modern renovations.  They bring mandarins with them when they first introduce themselves, and it's wonderfully fitting.  Hiroyuki works as an accountant with the local government, and Sachiko is a kindergarten teacher. 

Takumi's known the Fujiwara's – Sachiko's family – for years, her older brother playing soccer on the same team as him throughout high school.  When they'd realised the connection, it was only a matter of time before their friendship grew into something more familiar, and every Friday was a shared meal.

It's two months after their move when the Tachibana's announce their pregnancy; Sachiko smiling sweetly, expressing her hopes that they, and their children, can be friends well into the future.  Tiny feet seemingly kick and flutter in response, maybe happy about the news too.  Amidst all the congratulations and invitations to dinner, the two expectant mothers both end up crying, smiles on their faces, hands to bellies.

The time passes quickly, and before they can really realise it, Akemi is at the hospital; 8 hours of the most incredible pain she’s ever felt, and after, holding her son is near overwhelming.  Takumi’s got her hand, arm helping support their newborn – 7.3 pounds of the most beautiful, perfect thing they’ve ever seen.  He’s got his father’s brow, but he definitely takes after his mother more.  Happiness is too small a word.

His name is Haruka, a suggestion of Chie’s once she visits the first time.  It’s unusual; but they think it fits – and with the addition of tiny Nanase Haruka, their small family grows a little larger.

The two leave the hospital within the week, welcomed back with even more well-wishes and gifts.  Haruka is easy to love, they find; and before they realise it, they’re getting visits from friendly neighbours every day.  Haruka has more clothes than either of his parents by the next week, and small toys, blankets, books, are steadily piling up.  When the Tachibana’s visit for the first time, Sachiko holds him the whole time; whispering soft wishes, smiles, into his tiny ear.  Petting downy hair with fingertips, breathing kisses to his tiny crown.  There’s so much love, and Akemi can’t wait to reciprocate it.

Time is hectic with a baby, they soon realise – things are forgotten, and everything gets tricky.  It gets a little overwhelming at times, but Chie is always willing to give the two a break.  She loves her grandson more than anyone; and the way her blue eyes twinkle as she watches him, soft lullaby hummed as they rock, it’s clear she thinks he’s something special. 

Haruka develops quickly.  His eyes blink blue and bright, and for as quiet as he can be, he’s never uninterested in things – tiny hands reaching, little gurgles as he stretches.  He sleeps throughout the night, blinking awake early at 6 each morning.  He’s generally quiet, but when he cries, he _cries_.  Loud, and red-faced, and with the entirety of his little lungs.  And it’s at times like that when Akemi has to hold him close, trying desperately to hush him; where the only thing that quiets him is the gentle crash of the waves – relaxing, hypnotising.  Cool sea breezes whipping between them.

And with the steady growth of Haruka, so does Sachiko’s waistline.  Her pregnancy bump is more evident than her friend’s ever was, and as she comes to term she only gets rounder.  At 16 weeks the news that the baby’s a boy is happily met, askance to Haruka to be a good friend. 

The more time passes, the bigger both the baby and his mother grow.  He’s longer, larger, than the average, and the pain means many sleepless nights.  She leaves her job earlier than expected, and soon the female Tachibana-san is relegated to her home.  Added strain shifts to her lower back, compacting, and it becomes quite usual for Hiroyuki to start doing the family chores; the two men – one a father, one nearly – grocery shopping or posting mail, whilst the women converge at the Nanase household.  The oldest already knitting small socks for their unborn neighbour, as well as her own grandson.

Its early morning mid-November when Sachiko leaves for the hospital; painful contractions on top of the back pain and dizziness.  She’s rushed into the maternity ward, and almost immediately put on painkillers, a near medical emergency.  When they hear the baby’s too big for her frame, that natural birth would only invite more complications, the choice for c-section is obvious.  Sachiko passes out, and carefully, quickly, the team of doctors bring their baby into the world.  The newly made father holds his son for hours once the nurses bring him out, and sits there, amazed, wondrous, waiting for his wife to wake up.

They name him Makoto; the sun shines from the opened curtains, catching on pink cheeks, green eyes squinting open.  Sachiko cries when she’s first able to hold him, and the amount of love in her expression is thick in the air.  The three of them stay like that for hours more, parents smiling the entire time whilst their bundled son sleeps.

Both she and baby Makoto stay in the hospital for another week and a half, time to allow Sachiko to heal enough to start moving around, time enough to allow the doctors to keep an eye on Makoto’s health.  They leave on a cool autumn morning, both bundled up, and drive back to their seaside home.  They painted the nursery a sunshine yellow, soft toys, soft edges; and the little boy fits right in, their very own ray of sunshine.

By the time afternoon rolls around, the family a little more settled, their neighbours visit.  The Nanase’s knew they wanted to be the first to be there, and baby Haruka is wide awake, bright eyed in the excitement of his parents.  Both the Nanase’s and Sachiko settling on the couch as Hiroyuki goes to retrieve his napping son.

At five months, three weeks, 4 days old, Nanase Haruka meets Tachibana Makoto for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be a long one, hopefully.  
> Not my usual ship (or fandom!) I write for, but I've wanted to write this for a long time, I hope it turns out OK.  
> Thanks everyone♥
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com, if anyone is interested


	2. 2

Despite all the books advising against leaving toddlers alone amongst themselves, Haruka and Makoto never seem to have a problem.

They get along splendidly; both houses home for the two boys.  It's usually Haruka who visits – the downhill trip much easier than the uphill for the young Nanase incensed on walking by himself, aside from the many times when he's holding hands with his best friend – and now that the two fathers have returned to work fulltime, both mothers enjoy the company. 

Both sets of parents lovingly joke about Haruka being a perfect older brother, understanding his timid neighbour without problem.  Haruka has excellent intuition and a kind heart, and Makoto trusts him completely.  Sachiko still smiles when she remembers the first time the tiny blue-eyed boy said “Mako”, her own baby boy laughing in response; pulling his friend into a strong-gripped but unsteady hug, much to his shock.  The way he had repeated the name after that, with wide eyes and annoyed whine at his capture, was something she really wishes she had recorded; something to embarrass them with once they grew up.

Today, she had walked Makoto up the stone steps outside their door, heart filled full when she had seen how proud he was at managing the tricky path.  Makoto was excited to see his friend, like he was every day, and she could feel the urgency in the little hand pulling hers.

“OK, OK,” adjusting the bag over her shoulder, “why don't you go find Haru-chan?  I'm sure he's waiting for you.”  Letting her son go ahead, little legs running.  Hiding her smile behind her hand as she watched him disappear past the fence with a cry of “Haru-chan!  G'Morning!”

Haru was sweeping the little path of his front garden, Chie dutifully watching over him as he handled the small dustpan brush; offering her own good morning to the young Tachibana at his arrival; as her grandson stood from his crouch to nod, once, 'Mako' his only greeting.

She laughs at the familiarity, how even at this young, Haru's eyes sparkle at the arrival of his friend.  His cool demeanour fooling no one.  The brunet turns at the sound; he's still a little shy around most adults, but Makoto knows Chie better than either of his own grandmothers at this point.

“G'Morning, Obaa-chan.”  Smile growing wider once he saw his mother join them, her own greeting mimicking her son's. 

The two had come up to the Nanase's every morning this week, the mothers dutifully filling baby books and photo albums as they let their sons enjoy each other for the day.  Akemi welcomes her friend inside, and Haruka resumes his cleaning; Makoto watching, enthralled.

“Would you like to try, Mako-chan?”  Kind voice drifting from where septuagenarian sat.

Nodding his head, it was only a moment before he found his best friend offering him the brush – blue plastic handle thrust into his hand, and the younger boy was happy to share.  Makoto was still wary about asking for things from either set of adults, but Haruka had no problems.  He was well behaved, but often times hard to handle without his grandmother or young friend around – slowly growing out of the tantrums though.

They finished sweeping the front, the elderly woman indulging them with a story once they had done.  Makoto had ended up gripping Haru's shirt, pulling him close, whenever the young prince was in danger; but as the story ended, green eyes sparkled as the prince found the princess, and they lived happily ever after.  Chie gave both a soft pat on their shoulder, and knew that both had enjoyed it; even if only one had verbalised it.

They have lunch soon after; egg over rice in colourful plastic bowls.  Haruka's fairly proficient with the children's fork in his hand, but Sachiko has to keep an eye on Makoto to ensure not too much of the food ends up crushed into the tatami – his earnest scooping of his cutlery resulting in more food reaching the floor than his mouth.  There's a few rice grains stuck in his fringe, and with careful fingers as so not to pull on the brown hair, Haruka picks them out.  Sachiko gives a warm smile and hair ruffle at that, and Haru can't help but smile back.

They tumble around the living room for a bit after that – soft toys flying as Haruka tries to imitate their movements – and end up chasing each other down the hall.  A wobble which has Makoto falling inevitably ends with a large sob; but before either mother can even move from their seats, the other toddler has his hands, kissing him better like his Granny always does.  Potential tears are reduced to small hiccups, and Haru helps pull him back onto his feet.  They run the rest of the way hand-in-hand, earlier game forgotten, as they make their way to the backyard. 

Small flowers are blossoming from the beds, and his best friend seems happy.

“Blue!”  he exclaims, smiling excitedly, hand curling around the other's.  “Like Haru-chan!”

He didn't know what he meant, until the small free hand pointed to his eyes.  He only blinked in response.

“Mako-chan, green,” his own little fingers pointing to the large leaves surrounding the flowers, “nice.”

The sun is shining on the garden – their own special spot.  Makoto is happy at the comparison to the leaves, and Haru again is smiling back, the Tachibana grin contagious.  The joined hands between them swing as they stand there, but they stay together.  Sometimes his friend's hands are sticky, but they're always warm, and his smiles big, that Haruka never complains.  Never breaks hold, even when they nap on the living room floor, soft quilt of Chie's making underneath them.

Once the afternoon fades into dusk – dinners and baths and bedtimes to consider – that was the hardest part of the day to deal with.  Haruka always let people know what he wanted, when he wanted it. 

Even more so when it came to Makoto.

Before he had had words to explain himself, Haruka had used to cry, loudly, endlessly, little arms and legs flailing as he was carried off by one of his parents; which, unfortunately, would usually set off Makoto.  His usual quietness was deceptive – Nanase Haruka had always been wilful, and stubborn too.  Both boys were so little, didn't understand why they had to be separated, and those nights usually ended with both wearing themselves out; quiet during bathtime and dinner, until falling soundly asleep.

Once he had discovered the power of words, though, he wasn't afraid to use them.

“No.  Stay.”  Tiny fists either side, Makoto grabbing the hem of his shirt once again as he heard his friend's voice harden.

“Haruka, sweetie, Makoto has to go home now,” his mother crouching to address him face-to-face.  “He has to get ready for bed soon, because he's a good boy.”

“Here.  Sleep here,” brow furrowed strongly, eyes avoiding his mother's gaze.  Small sniffles from the brunet as Haru linked their hands again; green eyes darting to his mother, large and threatening tears.

“Do you want to stay, Makoto?”

All eyes were on the little boy now, head ducking down, but squeezing Haru's hand tighter.  Sachiko breathing out a happy exhale and joining her friend in a crouch.

“It's OK if you want to stay here; Daddy or I can come get you tomorrow, and Haru-chan can come visit if he wants,” green eyes peeking up from under his bangs, unsure,  “is that something you want to do?”

His nod is tiny, and Haru can feel both mothers sigh in relief as they stand, having found an acceptable compromise.

“I'm so sorry to ask this of you, I don't want to impose.”

“Don't worry, it's a pleasure having Mako over; and really,” watching the two toddlers talk amongst themselves, “you're helping me.”

Mama Tachibana bids her son goodbye, the little boy threatening another round of tears when he realises she's leaving; but with the way he's clinging onto the tiny hand in his, she knows there's nothing to worry about.

Dinner is a subdued affair, but Akemi can tell her son is happy.  She cleans up after the boys, and then cleans the boys themselves, filling a bath for the three of them.  Haruka always loves the soak after having his hair washed, and when Makoto slips into the bath beside him with a little splash, it's only a moment before he splashes back himself.  The tap digs into her pale back when Akemi joins them in the tub, and it's only a moment before she's dumping scooped handfuls of water over their heads – annoyed splutter from her son, and a small giggle from his best friend.

Makoto likes the fluffy towels they're given, white and comfortable; and snuggles deep in his as his hair is dried.  His borrowed pyjamas are soft, and smell faintly of his best friend. 

They climb onto the single bed together, Granny Nanase coming in to tell another story – this one about the sea, and two best friends who sail across it to find the edge of the sky.  There are sea creatures drifting above them in silhouette – a nightlight that glows lowly throughout the night, guaranteed to scare away shadows – and Makoto watches them drowsily as the story comes to an end, the smell of the ocean strong on the breeze from the window.

“I love you boys; sweet dreams.”  She tucks them in close, soft kiss on their heads as they bid their own good nights.

The door slips shut quietly; Haru shifting to his side as soon as they're alone, Makoto blinking sleepily at his friend.

“Luff you,” his own kiss joining his grandmother's on the soft brown hair.  Smile large, but drowsy, in response; a quiet hum of agreement as he closes his eyes.

And thus ends the first of many, many sleepovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> Thanks for waiting so patiently, I'm so sorry this took a while to update! I hope this chapter was worth the wait.
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com; feel free to leave me a message!


	3. 3

Makoto's almost three now; he's old enough to visit Haru-chan on his own, he thinks.

Sachiko's a little more wary, preferring to keep an eye on her – _their –_ boys. Akemi has started working again, office hours through the day, and Chie has been left to look after Haru – and Makoto, when he visits most days. There's not much for her to do without her son around, and even now she feels both boys growing right before her eyes.

Ah, being a mother is hard.

She lets him go anyway, of course. Waving him off from their door, watching as he climbs the familiar staircase to their neighbours. He's long-past the uncertain wobbles that he used to have, but she's not quite ready to let go of this little motherly worry. Better safe than sorry.

When Makoto reaches his friend's house, he knocks on the door, waiting politely. There's the familiar shuffle of Haru-chan's grandmother as she approaches, and he makes sure to smile when she answers.

“Oh, Makoto, good morning; you're a little late today, huh?”

“G'Morning, Obaa-chan. Momma was cleaning my shirt, soes I had to wait 'til it was ready,” pulling down the fabric to show the cartoon mascot on the front. “I spilled again.” Smile a little smaller.

“That's OK, dear; we all make messes sometimes.” Her face was full of crinkles, happy ones. Makoto loved Haru-chan's grandmother, and how she seemed to know everything. He smiled back as big as he could.

“I'm sure you're looking for Haruka; he's been waiting for you.”

“Haru-chan is?”

“If you walk around to the back garden you'll find him.”

Haruka had gotten an inflatable pool for his most recent birthday; blue and plastic, with starfish and dolphins decorating the sides. It had been filled immediately, and it was far fewer days that he spent outside of it than in it. It reminded Makoto of an outdoor bath, but cold. Haru-chan never seems to mind, though.

“Hi Haru-chan!”

“You're late.”

“Mommy had to clean me. I spilled again.”

“Silly,” splashing some of his pool's contents onto his crouching friend, trying to hide his smile. “Clumsy.”

“Don't get me wet, Haru-chan! I just got clean.”

“Get in.” Pulling on his friend's arm, pitching the side forward as they stumbled together. “It's nice.”

“OK, Haru-chan. Jus' wait.”

Stripping off his clothes, he jumped with a little splash of his own; water overspilling onto the ground below.

They splash around the tiny pool for about an hour, Chie checking on them periodically. She collects and folds Makoto's clothes and leaves them on the back porch, next to the other little boy's; and calls to them for lunch as the day goes on.

“If you want to eat inside, you have to dry off.”

“Outside?” Dark blue eyes looking into identical, older, ones.

“You want me to bring the food out here?”

“Yes.” As blunt as he always was; she admired her grandson's insistent nature. Nanase Haruka would never be a push-over - like his father, and grandfather before him.

They had onigiri on the back porch; two naked little boys and an old woman – listening to the story of Urashima Taro and the turtle.

“It'd be nice to live under the sea.” Toes wiggling as he finishes the last of his onigiri; rice stuck on the corner of his mouth.

“Y'think so, Haru-chan? I think it's scary.”

“'T's only scary cuz he didn't keep his promise.” Makoto couldn't disagree, and it made him flush a little.

“It's sad though! All your family and friends would be gone when you come back,” a small sniffle as he seemed to realise something, “I'd miss you too much, Haru-chan.”

The other boy's eyes widened, not having thought about that – leaving his parents, grandmother, Makoto, behind. Even oba- and oji- Tachibana, and Nakamura-obaachan down the stairs. He'd miss them all.

Maybe living under the sea wasn't as nice without friends and family.

They finish the day in the pool, the water a little colder than Haru remembers, until the sun goes down, and his friend goes home.

He's still thinking about Urashima when he's wriggling into bed, his grandmother about to say her final goodnights. Soft hand coming up to ruffle his his hair. Noticing his tiny frown.

“What's wrong, Haruka? Are you feeling alright?”

He shakes his head as he pulls the covers up over his mouth; mumbles smothered by the soft fabric.

“What was that?”

“Don't wanna leave you behind.”

Her smile is soft, as she pets the blanket down from his face and puts her warm hand on his cheek.

“You know, there's a way for you to visit the underwater palace without leaving your friends and family.”

“Really?” Sitting upright in excitement; face imploring for her to share.

“If I tell you, you have to make sure share the magic with Makoto.”

Nodding fervently, that had always been his plan. To visit the palace together.

 

***

 

They're at the beach, small feet splashing in the shallow ebb of the waves, sand sticking between their toes.

Makoto has his fingers linked together, bottom lip caught between tiny teeth as he watches his friend reach down into the receding salt water.

“Look.”

There's a shell in his hand, curling and conical, light pink like a rose petal – like the soft blush on Haru's cheeks. The sea breeze feels cold, but with his friend's hand outreached like this, he can't feel the chill.

“It's pretty, Haru-chan,” green eyes closing as he smiles; feeling his friend still staring at him.

“For you,” hand still stretched out, blue eyes bright, “listen.”

Makoto doesn't immediately take the shell, instead allowing Haru to move closer. His hand is still cold from the seawater, but he's gentle, as always. Pressing the fragile shell against Makoto's ear, he can feel his nervous exhale against his arm – doesn't like how his best friend's face crinkles up in apprehension over things like this; that Haru can feel his friend getting scared, confused. Knows he has to use his words; like his mother always tells him to.

“You can hear it.” Eyes big and blue, like the skies above, like the water at their feet. “The ocean.” The undersea palace.

He closes his eyes and listens, can hear the gentle waves rushing in his ears – it's exactly as Haru-chan had said; and he can feel his friend watching him.

“It really is the ocean!” The sand crunches underfoot as he shifts, peeking up to look at his best friend. The way his eyes sparkle is Makoto's favourite thing. He loves when Haru-chan is happy.

They've been to the beach before; but today's the first time he can understand Haru-chan's excitement of coming here – with a miniture ocean echoing in his ear, his best friend right next to him, happy.

“It's like magic.”

Before Haru can say anything to that though, the waves lick their ankles; cold water sneaking up, and Makoto can't help but jump, shocked. Shell falling from his ear in the sudden movement, the moment passing as quickly as it came.

Haru's mother is calling out for them to come farther up the beach, but they bring the shell with them.

 

***

 

Makoto listens to the ocean in his ear whenever he's afraid of the shadows at night. He falls asleep to the hushed waves, and he dreams of underwater palaces with Haru-chan.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Sorry for another long wait, please forgive me! I hope this chapter was worth it!
> 
> Thanks to everyone leaving lovely comments, I really appreciate it.
> 
> This chapter makes reference to the legend of [Urashima Taro](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urashima_Tar%C5%8D). You may want to read the story to understand this chapter a little better.


	4. 5

They've been attending their local daycare for little under two years; both boys enrolling once Sachiko started working there again.  
  
It's about twenty minutes from the shrine steps, their homes, and the two boys walk with her every weekday morning. On occasion Akane joins them; but more often it's Sachiko with a small boy in either hand, listening to them chatter.  
  
They're almost old enough to start elementary school – only a few more months and they'd both be attending the small local school; a little farther than the daycare, but able to accommodate the whole town's children. She sometimes sees the bright red and black backpacks in the morning as they walk – their friends and neighbours all getting read for the day.  
  
The pathway curves up from the beach, and as she is well accustomed to, isn't surprised when Haruka-kun gives a little whine. Feet stopping momentarily as his eyes cast to the sea. Haruka's a child of the water, always has been, and Sachiko lets him linger just a moment before pulling him along gently. She's never the only one who notices though, her own son watching his friend quietly. So aware for such a little boy. They're both so smart, and she can't help the swell of pride that brings.  
  
The ocean breeze keeps their walks cool, but even so, she feels a little overheated and faint. She might have to sit down once they reach their destination – she's felt a little queasy all day.  
  
She can feel them getting restless once they get closer, and lets go of their hands so they can run the rest of the way. The gates are usually unlocked by now, one of the younger girls opening up the daycare for the early commuters dropping their kids off. Haruka reaches the entrance first, but waits for Makoto before going the rest of the way. She can see the way Makoto hangs back a little from his friend, shy and sensitive. She smiles at the way they hold hands, and go to play with the few other children already here.  
  
They spend the day like most, together. They draw, colourful crayon and bright white paper. Haru draws several different types of fish – the product of his most recent visit to the aquarium in Tottori city last week; Makoto had been invited, but had had a doctors appointment that day, routine shots, and had been unable to go. Haruka's been telling him everything he remembers since – the dolphins, the seals, the multitudes of colourful fish. And Makoto loves hearing about them.  
  
Makoto's is a picture much more familiar; his best friend, in thick waxy lines. He draws him at least once a week, and Haru colours in blush every time – drawing his own of Makoto in thanks. Sometimes they're holding hands, sometimes it's their families, but there's always, always a smile. Sachiko and Akemi keep every one, date dutifully recorded on the back.  
  
They play a game of shadow tag after lunch, Takeshi and Yuriko and Ichirou joining in with the fun as they run around the front play area. Sachiko's helping young Amane with gluing down some paper squares; but the faint feeling from earlier in the day is starting to get her dizzy.  
  
Only a few more hours, and then she can rest at home.  
  
They're usually the last to leave, sun setting low, and all the other children collected by their parents. She buys them a soda popsicle to share, still hot although the sun's setting lowly in the sky. They suckle happily, their free hands caught in each other's rather than hers. The sugar smell makes her stomach curdle, and it's all too familiar.  
She may have to book a doctors appointment soon.  
  


* * *

  
Haruka doesn't like when Makoto's worried; yet here he is, hands shaking a little, eyes wet and glossy from unshed tears. He can't quite understand why his friend is upset, but for him to be so quiet, it has to be important.  
  
He lets Makoto hug him tightly, unsure, shaky breaths betraying his tears. Makoto's a little shorter, head tucking into his shoulder well, and Haru pats his hair the way he knows is comforting for his friend.  
  
They're at the Nanase's, Tachibana-ojisan dropping him off early, just as Haru was starting breakfast. Unlike normal visits, the Tachibanas don't seem so smiley – and for Haru, even he's a little frightened of why the adults are so different from usual.  
  
His grandmother lets them watch a movie in the living room; setting down blankets and pillows on the tatami, and fruit juice in his and Mako's favourite cups. He hopes Makoto enjoys the movie he chose, he usually does.  
  
Instead of getting caught up with the music and the funny talking fish like he normally would – the love story between the prince and princess not catching Makoto's attention at all – he falls asleep, hand gripping Haru's shirt tightly, even in sleep.  
  
Chie sits with them, knitting in soft wool. The endless rows of delicate white stitches catches his attention, and pretty soon even he has lost interest in the story of underwater love. This isn't the first time he's seen his grandmother make something like this, but nevertheless it fascinates him. She hums mindlessly as she works, soft hand patting his head, Makoto's head, as she took a break to check her work. It isn't long before he's sleeping soundly too, head on his grandmother's knee, Makoto cuddled close.  
  
She couldn't think of a better place to be.

 

* * *

  
Makoto runs up the stairs, hopeful to reach his friend, excited.  
  
He has big news, and Haru-chan has to be the first person he shares with.  
  
He always shares with Haru-chan, after all.  
  
It's earlier than he normally arrives, but he's sure Haru-chan won't mind. His Momma said he could go, after all, so maybe being so early is OK? Nanase-obasan seems a little surprised when she answers his knock on the door, but smiles big as she greets him. Haru-chan's father is still at the table eating breakfast, and it's been a little while since Makoto has seen him. He's usually gone for work when Haru-chan leaves for school with Makoto.  
  
Haru-chan is also sitting at the table, sipping his miso, bright blue eyes looking at Makoto in a way that makes him feel like he's got bubbles in his tummy.  
  
“What brings you here so early, Makoto-kun?” Nanase-ojisan asks. His tie is a little bit crooked, a pretty colour grey, which makes Makoto think of the dolphins his friend is always telling him about. Next time, he promised, they'll see them together.  
  
“Oh!” He almost forgot his big news, which would have been very silly. Haru-chan would probably smile at that.  
  
“Haru-chan, guess what?”  
  
He doesn't respond verbally, but the tilted head he gets at that encourages Makoto to continue. Haru-chan's parents laugh a little at their son's quietness, but he doesn't seem to notice. Chie's shushing them, wanting to hear what the young Tachibana wants to say.  
  
“Momma's got a baby in her tummy!” Eyes excited, hands grasping at his hem with the news. There are excited gasps from the adults, but he doesn't really notice – he's watching his best friend as he blinks.  
  
He blinks, and then he smiles.  
  
Which is exactly what Makoto had hoped for.  
  


* * *

  
Sachiko's been explaining the news herself when the Nanase's come to offer their congratulations that evening. Hiroyuki sitting by his wife's side, hand on her back, chatting to his friend – a little about business, mostly about the pregnancy. There's laughter and happiness and a warm comfort in the air.  
  
Makoto and Haruka are on the floor, not paying too much attention to their parents. They've got coloured pencils spread around, forgotten drawings between them.  
  
“A baby?” It's phrased like a question, but Makoto knows it's not  
  
“I'm going to be a brother, Haru-chan.”  
  
He's so happy with the news, he glows like sunshine. Haru feels it's infectious. He likes when Makoto is smiling.  
  
Makoto asks if he'd like to have a sibling too; if he wanted a little brother or sister. He finds it a little strange for him to ask, it should be obvious.  
  
He doesn't need another sibling.  
  
He's already got Makoto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I hope this new chapter is OK, and I'm sorry it took a little while!
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and for the many kudos and lovely comments, I really appreciate it!
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com, and my inbox is always open!


	5. 6 part 1

It's summer time, and elementary school has broken up for vacation; the days getting warmer – Sachiko Tachibana getting rounder.  
  
Makoto's been accompanying her to the pregnancy clinic for the past couple weeks, eight train stations from Iwatobi, as she's been undergoing various testing. There's some big news she's getting verified today, and it's distracting. Her little boy sitting quietly beside her as they take the priority seats of the train, head leaning against the swell of her stomach. His hair is still as soft as it was when he was born, brown sugar and sand, a lingering part of the tiny infant he used to be. She's so proud of him; so happy he's been growing up well, healthy. That he has such wonderful people around him. She pets his hair as they travel, and she still can't quite believe how quickly he's grown – her baby, starting school, making friends. Haruka and he with a shiny 500 yen coin, walking to the conbini at the shore; sharing a twin popsicle on the steps to the beach.  
  
With another baby – or two – she'll miss more and more of these tiny moments with Makoto, with Haruka. At least she knows she can rely on the both of them to look after each other. They'll be OK, together.  
  
The drawn out voice of the intercom is reading their station, and it takes a minute before she's able to rouse the dozing first-grader, carefully lifting herself out of her seat. They walk hand-in-hand, Makoto smiling and swinging their arms as he takes in the now familiar sights.  
  
They pass by the quay, local fishermen taking stock and preparing for the next day, and she can feel her son stop for a moment – grinning widely in the direction of one of the larger boats. Heisui –  _Calm Water_. The two of them had met the captain on one of their previous trips, and Makoto loves meeting up with Captain Suzuhara. He's taught him how to cast a fishing line, and showing him the crabs and flatfish that make up the majority of his business. Makoto was amazed when the captain showed him a live squid for the first time, swirling around a shallow bath of water, he wouldn't stop talking about it. He ran to the Nanase's almost immediately after returning home, to share with his blue-eyed friend. She couldn't make squid for a while after that though, without risking tears and small sniffles.  
  
She lets him go, running to his new-found friend, able to trust he won't get into too much trouble under the kindly senior's care. It's better than him being bored in the medical offices or the waiting room anyway.  
  
She makes her appointment right on time, the softly breaking waves hushed by the door behind her. The nurse waves her in as she calls the doctor, knowing smile as Sachiko thanks her. It's the end of her first trimester, and she can see the ultrasound equipment through the door.  
  
She hopes it's good news.  
  


* * *

  
  
Makoto's had a lot of fun today, watching nice Suzuhara-ojiisan tie amazing and complicated knots. He's got hands that are rough like the sand, and he smells of the ocean; Makoto's sure Haru-chan would like him.  
  
They have a similar sort of quiet – one that Makoto finds familiar, comforting. He had spent the midmorning watching in rapt interest as thin rope twisted in on itself – and the kind septuagenarian had given him one of his favourite to keep. He fiddled with it in his pocket, small fingers tracing the loops. A small treasure to keep.  
  
He's told him a lot about Haru-chan, and about how kind he is. How he smiles with his eyes sometimes, instead of his mouth. How he scared away the shadows from under his bed, or holds his hand on the way to school.  
About how they share popsicles at the beach; or how Makoto can see Haru's room from his window, blinking flashlights to each other, giggling past their bed time. _Like a lighthouse_ , his elderly friend had told him with a laugh. _Us fishermen rely on them to bring us home._  
  
The train is fast; blurring the landscape as they make their way home. The sun is glittering on the ocean – shining in the afternoon sun.  
  
 _You're lucky to have such a good friend._  
  
He wriggles his legs beneath himself as he kneels, pins-and-needles prickling the longer he stays still. He can see Iwatobi in the distance, not too much longer until he's home.  
  
He hopes he can see Haru-chan soon. He wonders if he was bored today.  
  
He plops onto the seat next to his mother now, sharing a smile. She looks happy – he hopes the baby's OK. He wants to meet his sibling soon; he wants to be a good brother. He can feel a soft pat on his back, and his mother is humming – it's soothing, but they're close to home, so he shouldn't fall asleep. He sighs, eyes closing.  
  
 _Iwa-tobi – i, Iwa-tobi – i_  
  
The station to their small seaside town is never busy, so it's a bit surprising when he sees Haru-chan and his grandma waiting.  
  
“Where are you going, Haru-chan?”  
  
“Waiting for you.” Makoto knows he isn't annoyed, he can see the blush.  
  
His mother's hand is on his shoulder. He can feel it warm, and her voice is light. “You didn't need to come all this way.”  
  
“It was no problem;” eyes slyly moving to her grandson, fond. “Haruka insisted.”  
  
He blushes deeper at that.  
  
They walk together towards their homes. Makoto can feel his friend's interest in the intricate knot as he holds it in his hands – he's always been fascinated by tactile things, and Makoto's glad he likes it.  
  
He kicks a little rock, watches it as it skitters ahead of them. There are seagulls above, and he can see their shadows floating across the pavement. He can hear the adults talking behind them, and there are quiet laughs floating on the breeze.  
  
“...I was worried when they said they couldn't tell both heartbeats last time, so it was a relief to hear them today. My little babies -”   
  
Makoto can see the torii winding up the cliff towards the shrine, a red pathway to their houses. The breezy tinkle of a wind-chime in a nearby store – the perfect summers day.  
  
Soon enough they'll be home.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> As you can tell from the title, this chapter is split into two! There's going to be a little more happening, and I don't want things to get too long or cluttered. Sorry it's a little shorter than usual though.
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com - fell free to drop by or leave a message, my inbox is always open!


	6. 6 part 2

They had been born late at night; Makoto had been spending the night at Haru-chan's all week, and the sudden break of the silence from the telephone ringing had roused both boys from their dreams. Excited to hear the news, Makoto had stumbled to the kitchen wrapped in the soft knitted blanket Chie had gifted him when he was born; it was small now – shrunken from washing, and his ever-growing body – but it comforted him all the same. Haruka trailed quietly behind him, blue eyes burning in the dim light, and they waited quietly by the door.  
  
It was like that, hand in hand, huddled close against the cold in their warm cotton pajamas, that Chie found them. Finished with the phone call, she led the two back upstairs, tucking them into bed.  
  
“Are the babies born?” It was Haruka who spoke first; could sense his friend's nervousness quieting him. It was times like this that Haruka made the conscious effort to speak.  
  
Both looked to the woman, watched as she softly smiled, hand petting their hair – trying to ease them into sleep.  
  
“They're both fine, very healthy.” Softly chuckling at how the tension in little Makoto's frame seems to evaporate – settling down into the pillows. “We can visit the twins tomorrow.”  
  
“Twins?”  
  
“That's what it's called when two babies are born together, Haruka. I can show you how to write it tomorrow.” Green and blue eyes blinking back at her expectantly.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yes indeed. I'm sure you boys will need to know for school.” The two boys had been learning their kanji slowly, and Haru loved discovering new words – loved watching his grandmother's beautiful strokes as she showed him how to write them.  
  
The curtains are open, the sky clear despite being winter. Wind makes the glass quietly waver. Stars glitter across the sky brilliantly – bright against the inky blue.  
  
“Speaking of twins; there's a story your grandfather told me long ago about the stars.”  
  
Both boys are sitting up now, Makoto yawning loudly and Haruka shuffling closer to his grandmother. They loved hearing Obaa-chan's stories whenever the opportunity arose, and even moreso if it was one they hadn't heard before.  
  
She tells them the story of Gemini, the twin stars – pointing them out as she goes, watching her two boys hang to each and every word. She knows it's far too late for them to be up, especially if they want an early morning hospital visit, but she can't help spoiling them. Not when they're so enamoured, so bright.  
  
It's been far too long since she's shared stories like this – her own son grew out of them quickly after he started school; but that's what grandchildren are for, she guessed.  
  
The story is winding to the conclusion, and suddenly she remembers – a final piece that she thinks might catch their interest. “Do you know what the symbol for Gemini looks like?” Two shaking heads indicate that, no, they do not.  
  
She traces out two parallel lines, vertical, in the air; closely followed by two horizontal lines. “It looks like a torii, doesn't it?” The little gasps that gets makes her laugh quietly.  
  
“But you know, boys, twins in legend aren't always siblings.” She can see the little wrinkle of a frown in Haruka's brow now; confused at this new information. Makoto keeps sneaking glances to his friend, unsure whether he's in a bad mood or not.  
  
“Sometimes, twins are just people who are perfectly matched. Soul-mates.”  
  
This seems to shock Haruka, and he just stares at his grandmother as she laughs quietly – urging them to lie down, now that her story's over. Makoto obediently lays down, snuggling close to his friend when he joins him; heads resting on the same pillow.  
  
“Good night, boys; I love you. Tomorrow we'll go to the hospital; I'm sure you want to meet your new siblings, Mako-chan.” A sleepy smile the only response.  
  
Both boys drift off to sleep quickly after that. The winter skies are clear through the window, stars blinking brightly, as she draws the curtains against the cold. Her joints act up in this weather, so better to sleep whilst she can.  
  
They had an early morning tomorrow, after all.  


***

  
Just as she'd said, Nanase-obaachan had taken them to the hospital after breakfast. Both Haru-chan's parents had congratulated him during their rush to work, and promised to come visit soon.  
  
The train ride was familiar to Makoto now – and he walked hand-in-hand with Haru the entire way there. He had been nervous and a little afraid, but the way their clasped hands had swung, a gentle rhythm, had calmed him down.  
  
Store owners were opening up shop – rolling shutters clanging as the town awoke for the day. The sun was bright over the waves of the ocean, and Makoto could see the fishing boats out at sea.  
  
Suzuhara-ojiisan had told him that fishermen started work very early, and he wondered which was his bobbing out on that endless stretch of blue. It would have been nice to introduce the old fisherman to Haru-chan, but today they were busy.  
  
The hospital was a little farther than he was used to walking, but soon enough the large building loomed into sight. It was white and tall, and a little bit intimidating. Nurses bustled around, and the hospital was busy even this early in the morning. People of all ages in the waiting area – sunlight streaming through large windows.  
  
His parents were on the fifth floor, and he counted the lights as they ascended in the elevator. The quiet ping announced their arrival, and the sound of crying echoed through the white halls. Haruka was quiet, as ever; but Makoto could tell he was paying attention.  
  
A nurse lets them in, and it's weird to see his mother in bed. She looks tired, but happy – and when his father lifts him to sit on the bed, he makes sure to give her a hug. Warm and soft and smelling like oranges like she normally does – the funny smell of the hospital only slightly tickling his nose.  
  
She's shushing him as they hug, and he doesn't realise he's crying until she wipes his face with soft hands; kisses his cheeks and tells him it's OK. He's missed his parents.  
  
He sits up after a little while, a little bit embarrassed to be crying even though he's a big boy – a big brother – now. Haru-chan knows, though, and just puts his hand on Makoto's knee. It makes him feel a little bit better, knowing Haru-chan is there.  
  
Once he feels ready, his father lifts him again to look into where the newly-born twins are.  
  
He knew there would be two babies – a boy and a girl – but it wasn't until he saw them that it really sank in.  
  
“Their names are Ren and Ran; your little brother and sister. Say hello, Makoto.”  
  
“Hello.”  
  
“Hello.” Haru joins; kneeling on the spare chair in the room. Hiroyuki places his son down, next to him, and they shuffle to both fit on the sturdy perch. The two babies huffing soft, sleepy breaths – unaware of the two older boys watching them.  
  
They're sleeping soundly in their swaddling, little chests moving in tandem, in the plastic beds that the hospital put them in, separate – one in pink, the other in blue.  
  
The newest additions to his family.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break!! I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> This chapter has a lot of references to the mythologies and legends of twins - most specifically, Gemini. Some interesting reading on the topic can be found [here](https://japanesemythology.wordpress.com/notes-on-legends-about-twins/).
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!  
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com, if you'd like to leave me a message.


	7. 7 part 1

Iwatobi Elementary has an outdoor pool – to teach the students how to swim, a crucial skill in a seaside town like their own – but it's been shut for months; still and cold in the frigid weather. Winter break had just ended, a new year already welcomed at Tajiri Shrine with wishes for health and prosperity. Makoto had held Nanase-obasan's hand waiting in line to ring the suzu; his own mother holding Ran. Haruka had been just ahead, his grandmother encouraging him to ring the bell with her, and he followed her actions carefully, exactly.

School had started up again, the familiar pathway littered with ice slicks, the usual familiar sea-breeze freezing as much of the two little boys as it could.

They've been walking on their own to school for a while now, the trip easy; little backpacks shining under the winter sun, gloved hands held. Makoto's shivering in his scarf, shoulders hunching against the wind – Haruka acts his usual self, the only indication of the cold is the bright red of his cheeks – stark contrast to the vibrant blue of his eyes, peeking out from beneath his woollen hat.

The only reason Makoto even remembers the school has a pool is because of how Haru sometimes stops to look at it as they arrive. They'd only had a handful of swimming lessons – how to float, kick their legs – in the warmer months, but Makoto could tell Haru-chan had had fun. He looks a little wistful watching the green water and bare trees, exhale white and full in the air.

The first bell isn't too far off, so Makoto pulls a little on his best friend's hand for them to get to the shoe lockers; feels how Haru lets him drag him away. Makoto greets a few of their classmates as he switches into indoor shoes, Haru nodding his _good morning_ s.

The teacher explains the lesson plan for today, and the usually-attentive Makoto can't help feeling a little antsy. Lingering energy from the winter break in the atmosphere.

Their first year as elementary students is almost over.

 

* * *

 

Haruka's grandmother is hospitalised at the end of spring; the cherry blossoms nearly completely fallen, crushed into the asphalt underfoot and washed into gutters by late spring rains.

Every time Makoto visits, Haruka is withdrawn. To other people, Haru-chan's always been quiet, but Makoto knows that just because he doesn't talk much, his best friend feels and experiences things just as strongly, more strongly, than anyone else. That it's simple to see if you know what to look for. So to see someone he's so used to being full of energy, curiosity, being so distant, makes him sad. Every day the way blue eyes seem to be focused on some far-off point, totally removed from their classes. He's gotten grumpier too, mumbling or frowning at other people in their class when they try to talk to him. Makoto's been apologising a lot on his behalf.

“You don't need to do that, you know.” Stone skittering as Haru kicks it, following the retreating Takeshi-kun, the latest victim.

“Yes I do; they're our classmates, Haru-chan.”

All he does is divert his gaze, angry huff his only response.

Makoto wants to invite Haru-chan over to his house this afternoon, there's something he wants to ask – but he's not as sure as he usually would be about whether Haru even wants him around. He wants to try something to help the other boy's mood; but not if it risks making it worse. Makoto bites his lip and tries to swallow, thickly.

Haru stops his walking as he realises the brunet is no longer by his side – turning slowly in question, and Makoto just smiles embarassed, not realising he had stopped.  
  
“Sorry for stopping, Haru-chan; I guess I was thinking too hard.”

Haru just nods, as if in agreement that it was quite careless. Blue eyes blinking when Makoto doesn't start walking again right away.

“I was. I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the park today, after we got home?” It was the end of the week, and the park was familiar and close. He wasn't really sure if he was nervous, but there were butterflies in his stomach all the same.

“Sure.”

He's not so sure why the blunt answer surprises him, but it makes him smile a little bigger than he was – glad he seems to have diverted his friends attention, even for just the moment. They continue on their way, but hoping and praying that his idea works.

 

***

 

He sits on the top of the slide when he asks him; about whether he'd like to go to the local swimming club his father had told him about, where they could swim – where Haru could swim – without having to worry about it being too cold.

Black eyebrows furrow, the swing moving as his legs bend. “Go yourself if you want to.”

Makoto's heart sinks a little at his friend's dismissal, shoulders slumping; embarrassed that he brought up the idea at all. “If you don't want to go, I won't either.” Sitting at the top of the slide, head tilted towards Haruka. “It wouldn't be the same without you.”

That seems to shock the other boy, eyes widening, blush creeping up his neck.

The sea breeze rustles the leaves on the trees above, and seagulls are crying. Makoto can see the sun settling towards the ocean; not quite sunset yet, but getting closer to a time where they should be heading home. Makoto squints against the bright light of the sun, arm coming up to shield his eyes, when he hears it – light as the breeze.

“I'll come”

Makoto can't help the excitement in his reaction; smiling wide, thanking him. He hopes Haru-chan will have fun. That maybe something he enjoys will make him not so sad anymore. Because Haru-chan deserves to be happy.

 

***

 

He invites him over for dinner, and he stays over afterwards. It lets Haruka's parents visit for longer at the hospital, and they're thankful to the Tachibana's for keeping Haru occupied.

The twins sleep quietly in their cots in the room next to Makoto's, and Sachiko warns both boys to be quiet so as not to disturb them. Rather than playing a game, they settle into the single bed and huddle under the blanket – crab-shaped flashlight giving some light to their makeshift tent. Makoto reads aloud one of the short stories from a collection his father had given him on his last birthday, only stopping a handful of times at words he stumbles through; and Haru just nods along, eyes heavy and blinking with sleep as it gets closer to nine. Turning off the flashlight, Makoto crawls up to the pillows – putting his book and flashlight on the bedside table – and settling down to sleep; leaving room for his best friend to join him.

Haru lays next to him, back facing him, and curls up into himself. The way his legs shift towards his chest and arms clasp infront of himself, Makoto feels like there's a more distance between them than the few inches. He can feel the sadness exuding from his back – endless worry about his grandmother wracking his body – and it curls around Makoto's little heart. Remembering the countless occasions on which Haru-chan has helped him, reassured him, Makoto tries to help his friend in the only way he knows how. Arms reaching out to loop across thin shoulders; bringing his chest flush to his friend's back – hugging Haru, letting him relax a little in his arms.

Moonlight filters through his thin window shade, and it throws shadows around the room; but tonight Makoto isn't scared of the monsters that may be, concerned with night terrors lurking around – tonight all he cares about is his best friend, softly sleeping in his arms. All he cares about is hearing the small stutter of a breath seeped in sadness, blocking back tears that he doesn't want to fall.

And tonight all Makoto can do is be there for him, like he always has been for Makoto.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait between chapters; I hope it was worth it!
> 
> Thank you all for such kind comments here, and messages on my tumblr - I really appreciate it!  
> Not much actually happened this chapter, but next one will have quite a bit, so look forward to that.
> 
> Message me on compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com, if you'd like; my inbox is always open!


	8. 7 part 2

Their first day at Iwatobi Swim Club is nice. Coach Sawaki – a kind woman, short with dark hair – introduces them both; and Makoto shyly says hello to the other kids in the class, goggles and swim cap clutched tightly to his chest. Rather than saying anything, Haru just nods his own greeting to the group. They aren't total beginners, so they aren't going to be wasting time on learning how to float or hold their breath. Instead, this class specialises in strengthening strokes – in boosting their stamina and overall skill. They'll be swimming a lot, and Haru's surprised he's been looking forward to it.

There are a few people Makoto recognises from school; boys and girls from other classes or other years who all seem happy for the new additions, and he smiles to them – nervous in hoping he isn't being too forward. They all seem nice enough, and from what Haru can tell, they all enjoy swimming.

Coach Sawaki shows both Haru and Makoto the proper way to put on their swim cap and goggles, and leads them to the edge of the pool to sit with the rest of the group. Other lanes are filled with older kids doing laps, and whistles are being blown periodically – instructions shouted from some of the other coaches. Haru's swinging his legs in the chlorinated water, enjoying the slight resistance as he does. Their swimming instructor is explaining what they'll be doing for the lesson, but he's not really paying attention; too interested in watching the fine spray of the leg-kick in another lane.

They line up to dive. Makoto's right behind him, and he can feel the nerves radiating from his best friend.

“You don't have to dive from the block; Coach said you're allowed to dive from the side if you're scared.”

“I'm not scared of diving, Haru-chan.” He looks funny with his goggles on; green straps pulling them tight to his head. Even so, his bottom lip is caught between his teeth – a sure sign of nerves worrying at the brunet's confidence.

“Don't cry, you'll fog your goggles up.”

“What if I mess up and everyone laughs?”

“You won't,” turning back to the line ahead. A thin girl jumping more than diving into the pool before breaking into a crawl stroke. “You're a better swimmer than all these kids.”

The short trill of the whistle signals that it's his turn to take the block, and he dives as best he can, hoping to enter the water with just a small splash. The pool is cool, but not cold, and it feels so different to any other water he regularly gets to swim in. He's more used to swimming in the ocean during warmer months, where the waves can tumble you around and salt tingles against the skin. Where he felt it was more like fighting sometimes, than swimming; a constant battle that would never be won. He loves the ocean, but it's a very different experience to the pool. Where the shine of turquoise fills your senses, and it's energy is closer to supportive buffs against the body. He can see the flurry of bubbles from people kicking around and in front of him, and Haru loves the way they feel rushing past. All too soon he's touching the opposite wall, and he doesn't quite want to lift himself out yet.

He's welcomed by the amazed voices of his classmates once he does pull himself out; excited exclamations of how well he swims. He doesn't want to be rude, but neither does he care; so he just shrugs and turns to help Makoto up after he's finished his own lap – hand out for him to grab.

Makoto seems happy at his effort, and Haru smiles a little for him. He knew Makoto could do it. They're soon crowded by the rest of the kids, though, and he quickly squashes the smile, annoyed at how quickly space around them had gotten smaller.

“You're a really good swimmer, Nanase-kun!! Have you had lessons before?”

“You dive really well too!”

“And you're pretty good too, Tachibana-kun. You guys are lucky.”

There are more voices than Haru can concentrate on, and he's happy when Makoto gives them all his own little shrug – closed smile and closed eyes. His nerves don't seem to be as bad anymore, and Haru's sure Makoto has gotten at least a little more comfortable after being in the water.

“Haru-chan's always been really good at swimming,” pulling up his goggles from his eyes. “He and I have swum a lot in the ocean before this, plus we had pretty good lessons at school. Maybe that's why?”

“No fair, you guys are too good.”

The last kid in their class finishes her lap, and soon Coach Sawaki is crouching down to talk to them all.

“You all did really well. Haruka-kun and Makoto-kun, especially; that was a great first try. Now, we're all going to start working on the breaststroke, and let's see if you can get to the other end of the pool again.”

All of them slip back into the water, gripping the side, to show off their frog-kick. The foot positions are more complicated than just the simple leg kick, but he tries to do it the best he can anyway.

***

The class is two hours long, and the sky is turning a little orange by the time they change into dry clothes and prepare to leave. They've got enough time to make it home before it gets too dark, though, it's only a fifteen-minute walk.

Makoto almost jumps a little when the man behind the counter calls out to them, and he's a little afraid that they've done something wrong until he waves them over with a smile.

“You're new members, right? Here, you can have one of these; we're having a new promotion.” Colourful keychains swing from their display as the man moves them closer, and Makoto thinks they're all pretty cute.

A bright blue dolphin is closest, and the colour reminds him of Haru-chan. They went to the aquarium together with Nanase-obasan last year, and since seeing how well they swum – gliding and jumping and diving about – they'd always reminded him of his best friend, just as pretty and graceful in the water.

He reaches out to take it, but Haru's hand bumps into his, and they look to each other. The man behind the counter – Sasabe-san from his nametag – just sighs and shakes his head.

“Those ones are really popular, we don't have enough.” Apologetically, he smiles, following with, “one of you boys is going to have to choose something else. You can play rock-paper-scissors to decide.”

Haru's frowning a little in thought, and Makoto's pretty sure his friend really wants the dolphin. It makes sense, as the whole reason he liked it was because it reminded him of Haru in the first place. Rather than worry about playing for it, he just grabs the clownfish one, offering the other to Haru-chan. The bright orange is Makoto's favourite colour, and it has cute little fins, so normally, it would have been his first choice anyway.

“I like this one too, you can have the dolphin, Haru-chan.” Putting it in the other boy's hand.

When they step out of the glass doors, Haru seems a little upset, just staring down at the plastic charm he's holding. Makoto's already clipped his to the sports bag he brought for classes, and the little fish is happily swinging with his arm movements. Turning to find his friend lagging a little behind, he stops to wait until he starts walking again.

“You can have it if you want.” The dolphin is right at the centre of his palm, being held straight out.  Makoto doesn't know why Haru-chan's worried, but he wants to reassure him all the same.

“I told you, I like this one too, Haru-chan,” pointing to the keyring on his bag. “Plus, that one suits you more, I think.”

Makoto's pretty sure Haru is worried about him, so he smiles wide to show he's not sad. Haru smiles back in his small way, and clips the dolphin to his bag.

The sea breeze has started up, perfect timing, and gulls fly above even though the beach is a little far away. It looks like Haru's come to some sort of mental decision, and starts walking again – holding his hand out for Makoto to take once they've passed the gate.

 

* * *

  

The stalls are lined up along the harbour, cartoon squid decorating each of them. It's the first year he hasn't come to the festival with Haru, and he feels a little lost even though he knows exactly where he is.

Usually they come together, getting dressed in yukata by Haru's grandmother and wandering the stalls under their parents' supervision. This year, Makoto's mother stayed home to look after Ren and Ran, and the Nanase's are in Tottori City, visiting Haru's uncle. Haru's grandmother has been out of the hospital for a while now, but she had promised her family to be careful whilst they were gone. Makoto and his mother had been visiting her every day since, to make sure she didn't get sick again.

His dad has gone to buy some takoyaki, so Makoto's a little bored waiting. Geta clacking against the pavement, the candied apple he's been eating is getting stuck in his back teeth. Warm lights illuminate the street, and people crowd the whole area. The summer festival is the only time Makoto can remember the main road being so busy – it's exciting and a little bit magical.

A fish-scooping game is to his right, glittering goldfish darting around as they avoid getting caught by people and their paper nets. Some kids he recognises from the year above him at school are struggling to not break the paper, and one cries out in defeat as his bowl sloshes over to free his prisoner. The goldfish catching always seems so hard, but Makoto loves how pretty they are – different shining colours and patterns. He wishes he had a little more allowance so he could try, but the last of it had gone to a fortune stand – pulling good luck for the summer season.

The way they swim is a little mesmerising, circling and dodging with ease. There are still people around playing, but he can't help crouching down to watch a little longer, yukata folding under his bent knees.

He turns back from the tent to find his father, wondering whether he'd gotten through the long line at the takoyaki seller's. Makoto can't help wonder whether Haru remembers it's the festival tonight; or if he's too busy with his uncle's family. He knows his best friend has a cousin one year older than them; wonders if they're anything alike.

He's almost back to the takoyaki stand when he spots a familiar face. It's been a little while since Makoto's joined his mother to the doctor's, but he recognizes Suzuhara-ojiisan immediately. He can't help the happiness he feels at the sight of someone he knows, and runs over when the old man waves. He's holding a water-filled bag, two goldfish dancing around each other.

“You caught two, Suzuhara-ojiisan! That's so amazing.”

“I'm a fisherman; it would make me look bad if I couldn't catch some goldfish.”

His eyes are soft and his smile lopsided. He holds the bag out to Makoto, who just looks at him in confusion.

“They're for you, boy. I know you'll look after them.”

Makoto feels like his heart is going to pop right out of his chest; he'd never been good enough at scooping to catch any himself, so the possibility of owning some of the glittering gold fish had seemed like a dream. He wants to hug his elderly friend, but doesn't want to be rude after such an amazing gift either. He can hear his father calling his name through the crowd somewhere behind him. He doesn't quite know what to do, holding the little bag of fish on his hand, so he bows his head as he thanks him – feeling the worn hand ruffling his hair as he does so.

He wants to say something else, to thank him again, but his father is calling for him over the steady din of the festival. A low chuckle rumbles from the elderly man, and Makoto feels a push at his back in the other direction, towards his dad.

“Looks like someone's waiting for you, boy. Go on, before they get worried.”

He waves once more before heading the opposite direction, hunched back quietly slipping away amongst the crowd.

 

* * *

 

It's two weeks after the festival that the typhoon hits.

It sweeps up with no warning – a sea storm that rattles Iwatobi to pieces. Makoto's family secures their windows as best they can once the wind picks up, and the storm shutters on the Nanase house are quickly installed by his father.

The wind pushes against the windows; anything not secured rattling and banging in the force. Makoto can hear the crash of waves from the ocean, hitting the beach hard as they roil towards shore. Both babies are crying at the noise and tense atmosphere, and Makoto's parents are trying fruitlessly to calm them. The lights and phones aren't safe to use, and Makoto worries at how Haru is doing; he's much braver than Makoto, though, so the brunet is sure he's fine.

Something sounds like it's breaking outside, and rain is pelting in waves. He wants to cry, hasn't heard a storm this loud before, but knows better than to worry his parents or upset the twins.  Instead, he cuddles up between his parents in their bed, the seashell Haru gave him years before pressed closely to his ear. He hums the theme from the sentai show that plays after school some days, hoping it'll make him brave.

The storm sounds like a thousand monsters; and in the first time in a while, Haru isn't there to save him.

***

The town is battered but mostly OK the next morning, the worst damage having been to some of the windows of local stores. Makoto went first thing to see if Haru-chan and his family had been alright, stone steps covered in leaves and sticks. Haru had answered the door almost immediately, and just held his hand a little – blue eyes searching for any sign of fear in the other's demeanor.

“Are you OK, Mako?”

A little relieved at seeing his friend, he just nods. “Now I am; the storm was pretty scary, though. Were you OK, Haru-chan?”

“Worry about yourself first.” Haru's way of showing concern.

With the permission of Haru's parents, they decide to go buy some more fish food for Kin and Aka, Makoto's goldfish, and head off to the store. People are cleaning up their storefronts, the path littered with sundry blown in from the night before.

The beach is a sea of green from all the seaweed dredged up and dumped, and the water is murkier than Makoto can remember. Gulls circle above, feeding on the mounds of soggy plant matter, and Haru walks a little faster to pass it.

The sky is cloudless, bright blue and sunny. Makoto's amazed at how quickly things can change as he squints against the sun.

He almost runs into Haru whilst he's a little blinded, his friend stopping suddenly.  Rubbing at green eyes, it takes a minute for Makoto to focus, but when he does, he doesn't quite know what he's seeing.

A procession of people down the street, dressed in white. There's a heavy silence settled on the scene, only broken by crying and whispers, and it makes Makoto feel sick. He's terrified, but not quite sure why; his best friend, stock-still beside him.

There are tears bubbling up, and he can't seem to get himself to breathe. Reaching out to hold Haru's hem, he just watches as person after person sullenly passes – old, young, and in-between.

There are two kids at the centre of the group, similar age to themselves. The girl is sobbing openly, her brother quietly holding her hand as they follow along. Makoto doesn't know why they're there, what's happening, but when the boy turns to look at them standing to the side, he wants to hide. Haru gasps a little at the unexpected eye contact, and the hurried way he drags Makoto away is enough for him to know that his friend is worried too.

Whispers of _Umibōzu_  and _Isonade_ drift from all around, it seems, and Makoto wants to know what those words mean, what it all means.

They forget to buy the fish food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone; as always, thanks for reading!
> 
> Pretty long chapter this time around, and just a couple notes.
> 
> First of all, Makoto's goldfish are creatively named Kin (gold) and Aka (red) after their colouration; brilliant, I know.
> 
> This chapter makes references to both the Isonade and the Umibōzu. These are both Japanese yokai, and very relevant to the coastal towns of Japan. Both are mysterious sea monsters with long histories.
> 
> [Isonade](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isonade) is described as large shark-like monsters with hooks and barbs all across their fins. They hunt silently by pulling down fishermen to the depths and are said to appear when the sea currents change.
> 
> [Umibōzu](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Umib%C5%8Dzu) is unknown in shape, but said to be a towering black human-like figure who rises from the depths. On calm nights they summon winds and waves, destroying ships and sinking them.
> 
> As Iwatobi is a seaside town, and full of the older generation, I would imagine rumours of yokai are quite common when tragedy strikes. 
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph; feel free to drop by!


	9. 9

Clouds drift across the blue skies, forming shapes both recognisable and magical. He's lying on his back, the grassy hill warm under the morning sun. Their bikes have been dumped down by the path, halfway to where they were planning to go, previous plans forgotten.

It's Golden Week, the entire week off of school and both boys free to spend the time as they want. There's a local swim tournament coming up, so afternoons are usually regulated to the swim club, practising. Makoto's nervous, as always, but he hopes he can do well. He knows Haru will.

“What do you see, Haru-chan?”

There's a hum in response before the older tilts his head a little.

“Egg over rice.” Pointing to a fluffy cloud above, piled high. Makoto can't quite stifle the laugh that brings up, choking a little as he rolls so he's facing the blue-eyed boy now.

“That just looks like a cloud, Haru-chan.”

“You asked me what I saw; I told you.” Head turned in the opposite direction, huffing.

The gulls are crying, familiar in the seaside town. They aren't quite near the ocean, but if he sat up, Makoto could see the ocean down the horizon like always. On his back though, all there is is the endless sky, clouds breaking up the bright blue. The sun burns white spots in his vision before he can blink them away.

Haru's sitting up now, hands brushing at his back to dislodge any stray grass sticking to his shirt. The skin on the back of his legs is red, grass patterns pressed into them. Makoto joins his friend in sitting up, readjusting his shirt where it's ridden up.

“Popsicle?”

Haru only says the one word, but Makoto knows exactly what he's asking. Checking his pocket, Makoto fishes out a 500 yen piece, offering out the silver coin to his friend. Haru just shakes his head in refusal before getting up, heading toward the conbini behind them at the top of the hill.

Makoto waits, brushing the grass from his legs and back too. A truck passes on the road behind him, and it smells of fish and diesel. Even with the week-long public holiday, many of the local fishermen never stopped working.

Well, unless there was storm forecast.

The loss of the Heisui and it's crew had really affected Iwatobi in the weeks following the typhoon of two years ago – flowers and incense lining the coastline, the path towards the quay. Countless people visiting the shrine to offer prayers and condolences; Makoto would hear them walking the stone steps that had become so familiar – faces sad, laden with offerings. Could see them – young, old, in between – making the trip from his bedroom window.

The Tachibana's had visited the shrine too, Nanase's meeting them halfway up the stairs. Makoto hadn't cried. Wanted to be well-behaved.

It hadn't been until the week later that he had broken down, sobbing quietly in the dark – futons side-by-side as he visited Haru. Hand gripping the other's sleep shirt, outstretched over the distance. Quiet, but neither asleep.

Haru returns with the frozen ice – twin pole in each hand – and Makoto scrubs at his eyes to get rid of the tears he hadn't realised had bubbled up again. Blue eyes just watch him carefully, but Haru doesn't say anything; just holding out the larger of the two halves.

Sweet lemonade hits his tongue, and he knows the blue colouring will dye his lips, his tongue the same shade. Maybe even his hand, if he's careless.

The bikes are still laying right were they were left, a stray cat sniffing at the spokes of Makoto's.  Haru turns his head to look at where Makoto's looking; smiling a little in humour once he sees the small tabby.

“Guess the plan to go to the library isn't happening.”  
  
A shrug, “it's too nice to stay inside,” stretching out over the grass again. “But too cold to go to the ocean.”

Haru's been saying that a lot, even in the summer. A different excuse each time, but even so, it's been months since they've actually swum at the beach.

Makoto isn't complaining.

He finishes his half of the twin-pole, chewing the wood of the stick a little. “Let's go, Haru-chan. If we're not going to the library, we can take the twins to the park instead.” The two four-year-olds excited to have their brother and his friend free for the whole week; a break from daycare.

Haru nodding his agreement, Makoto reaches his hand out to pull his friend to his feet too.

“Good idea.”

 

* * *

 

Haru wins gold for the 100 meter freestyle – his crawl stroke speeding him through the water like a dolphin, his friends from the swim club would say. He didn't want to say it was expected, but their coach had been sure it was. The 200 meters wasn't so easy, but he'd held off an older kid the entire race, cutting it close right until the end – only a fraction of a second ahead. He doesn't mind either way; at least that's what he tells himself, but the gold glitters just a little brighter than he expected. The sharp smell of freshly-printed paper intoxicating as he receives his certificate.

Makoto had won silver in another heat of freestyle, gold in breaststroke. Smile wide at his achievements, a little shocked he had done so well. Walking back to the seats where their families are sitting, chlorine water drips off him, wet footprints following him. Haru pushes another towel onto his best friend's head once he sits down, frowning at the giggle that causes. The muted “Thanks, Haru-chan,” as he dries himself off.

They share bentos Makoto's mother brought, onigiri filled with squid and tuna. They stay to watch the rest of the races, clapping politely at any of the club's members placing. Yazaki-san throws a thumbs-up their way once she wins first for girls, Haruka's mother laughing when she sees her son frown, Makoto blushing beside him.

The muggy air of chlorine in the indoor pool feels heavy, and Haru can't wait to leave. It's only a local swim meet, so it shouldn't take all day, he thinks. The passing of time counted by Makoto bumping his knee accidentally every so often.

Luckily, it's not too much longer that the swim coaches gather them together – photographing the group before letting the kids rejoin their parents. Two rows of kids, smiling, the moment immortalised in film.

Heavy medals collected and hung around their necks, they clink together as they walk home. Both mothers chatting as their sons walk ahead; waves crashing quietly against the beach. The hill to the shrine, the steps that take them home, are just ahead in the distance; sea breeze cool against exposed legs. A stray darts from behind the convenience store to hide in the bushes, Makoto huffing a little laughter at the sight. The easy walk makes Haru nostalgic; his Grandmother couldn't make it today, as much as she wanted to. Too much stress, too much exertion was bad for her, the doctor had said.

So instead, she waited atop the stairs for their return.

 

* * *

 

Summer meant more swim practice, which meant more races, which meant more annoyance for Haruka. He loved swimming – the easy way the water would fill your senses, losing yourself a little. Pushing yourself through such a strong element, wary of how quickly the water can attack. What he didn't love was the assumption that he'd take part in races for the club; represent the ITSC in the under-tens as the brilliant freestylist they called him. Win gold, over and over; boost their reputation – it felt like manipulation, and he hated it. Didn't like the complete acceptance that he would win from his team-mates and coaches. Even Makoto telling him he was amazing, no matter how many times Haru insisted he was just normal.

The half-dozen gold medals hang from the display board in his room; medallions of all sizes, the reason he's in this mess. He gives them a half-hearted glare, but ultimately, he realises it's no one's fault but his own; not clearly refusing like he should.

There's another meet tomorrow; a large regional group containing elementary students from all over a three-city area. As usual he was enrolled in both 100 and 200 meters freestyle; Makoto joining him for the 100, also competing in the 100 meter breaststroke.

It was going to be a day-trip, Haruka's mother driving them to the next city in the morning, and staying for majority of the day. As such, he was packing now to make sure they made it on time – unwilling a participant or not. Haru huffs as he stuffs an extra pair of socks into the inside pocket of his bag, towel and goggles already inside. The bright blue dolphin still hangs from the clasp, and the sight just reminds him of the unwarranted praise – _like a dolphin, graceful; so natural a swimmer_. Although, he supposes being called a dolphin isn't too bad; free to swim all day, no need to race because someone else wants him to.

His grandmother knocks twice before letting herself in; chuckling at the wide eyes she sees – swim club outfit dumped over various areas of the small bedroom.

“Look at this mess; you'd think that tanuki had been playing around in here.” Sparkle in her blue eyes, knowing smirk.

Haruka flushes at the comment; he's usually very tidy, but the aggravation he'd been feeling earlier spilled into his rough handling of his sports clothes. Watches the old woman fold the soft blue of the shirt.

“Sorry, Gran.”

“Don't be, dear.” Setting the shirt down on his desk, and setting herself down to kneel next to where the young Nanase was sitting. Seeing the small frown on his face, she reaches out to pat his head. “Something wrong, Haruka?”

He draws his knees up a little to his chest, head nudging against the soft hand in his hair. “Not really.”

“Want to tell me?”

Haru considers it for a minute, and decides to to tell his grandmother. If anyone would understand, it would be her. Taking a deep breath, he crosses his arms across his legs. “I don't like people expecting me to swim in races.”

“Do you like swimming?” An easy question.

“Yes, a lot.”

She hums, patting his head a little more. “You just don't want other people wanting you to?”

“They think I'm going to win, so they want me to race.”

She closes her eyes and smiles at that, her grandson frowning a little more. “You're a very talented boy, Haruka. People want to experience that – you inspire others.”

“I don't want to inspire people; I just want to swim.” Head ducking down, away.

“Have I ever told you about when I was in high school?”  
  
“No...”

She settles down a little farther, sighing at the memories. “When I was in middle school and high school, I was pretty talented myself.”

“You're still talented, Gran.” Smile growing on the old woman's face, eyes wrinkling a little more at the corners.

“I'm glad you think so, Haruka,” soft giggle breaking her sentence, “but back in my youth I was going through the same thing you are – except, instead of swimming, it was in painting and calligraphy. Your grandmother was in galleries for a little while there.”  
  
“Really?”

“Really.”

Folding another item of clothing as she continued, Haru was too enthralled to even notice.

“A lot of my teachers wanted me to pursue art; to sell pieces and become famous for the area. My whole time in school, it was like that.” Shorts folded and added to the small pile. “For a while, I did, but I lost interst when I _had_ to create. I was tired of something I had loved.”

“What happened?”

“As time passed, people got less interested or involved – I stopped being a genius teen and became a normal adult. By the time I turned twenty, I wasn't unique or special any more. I was able to do what I want; to keep my art as a hobby, rather than work.”

All clothes folded in a pile, the older Nanase placing them into the ITSC bag – the dolphin charm swinging.

“Haruka, just remember: at ten, you're a prodigy; at fifteen, you're a genius; but at twenty, you're normal. Don't worry, things will sort themselves out. I just hope you never start to hate swimming; you love it so much.”

Those words really stick, blue eyes blinking at his grandmother as he runs over them in his head. Believes them, as he does with everything his grandmother tells him.

But it's too far until he's twenty. He hasn't even hit prodigy yet, if she's right.

He wants to swim – wants to forget everything in the calm arms of the water.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a long wait!!
> 
> I've recently finished one of my other ongoing fics, so hopefully I'll have more time to focus on this one.
> 
> Only a few notes this chapter. 
> 
> Golden Week is a collection of four national holidays within seven days, occurring during April/May. Majority of businesses are closed during this time.
> 
> Tanuki are Japanese 'raccoon dogs', actual animals which are believed to have magical powers. They can shape-shift, but mostly use it for pulling pranks and having fun. They're also well-known for their laziness.
> 
> My tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph; feel free to drop by!


	10. 10

Nothing really feels the same as sand between your toes, Haru thinks.  
  
It's been a criminally long time since he'd been down to the beach last considering his proximity to it, and the gulls crying overhead seem to agree.  Summer sun burns against his neck as he stands by the shoreline, not quite ready to dive in yet.  
  
Makoto has been visiting his grandparents for the past week, leaving Haru alone for the first half of the summer break.  He doesn't quite miss him, but it's unusual not having the brunet by his side – boring staying at home playing video games or watching TV by himself.  The school break means that the swim club is overrun by people, small kids splashing around and families taking a break from the hot weather.  A couple of groups of out-of-towners have made the trip down to Iwatobi for the beach, and he can see their umbrellas and bags deposited farther down the stretch of the bay.  
  
He's not quite sure what drew him to the ocean today; whether it was a passing thought or the sea-breeze pulling him in for a familiar taste.  
  
Dumping his t-shirt and shorts, he runs to the water – splashing as the waves hit his calves before diving into the deeper part.  It may have been years since he'd swum in his aquamarine neighbour, but there were things, instinctual, that Haru could never forget about swimming.  Waves buffeted him softly, gentle as a mother rocking a baby; the muted roar of the ocean in his submerged ears as he floated.  Eyes closed to the sky above, sunlight warm in contrast to the chill against his back.  
  
He wasn't afraid of the ocean like Makoto, scared of submerged things he couldn't put a name to, but he did realise that his relationship with water was one of mutual respect – that it only treated him this well because he knew he couldn't get too comfortable in its embrace.  Makoto's words were rising up in his mind, exclaiming that Haru was at home in the water, a snort of a laugh at the idea.  
  
Thoughts of Makoto curled his stomach a little in an emotion he couldn't quite place, like Haru was doing something bad by swimming in the ocean.  He'd avoided it for his friend's sake for a long time, but now he was alone and shouldn't have to worry.  Brunet not upset about what he didn't know about.  But still, it didn't feel right; felt like he was breaking something serious, and the cool waters of the ocean weren't dispelling the feeling like they used to.  
  
Swimming laps, trying to burn some of the uneasy energy from his system, the waves pushed him back to shore – almost like they knew what he was feeling, doing.  Not wanting to struggle any longer, to make the water more annoyed at him, he just let himself be pushed back to shore – floating upright now, more aware of the other people he'd been sharing the slice of the bay with.  
  
They look like high school students, maybe even university students, splashing around and laughing.   A couple of girls in bikinis sit under a beach umbrella chatting, pointing to their friends in the water – they don't look like they've gone in at all.  A waste of good ocean time, in Haru's opinion; and he couldn't help wondering why they would come to the beach if they weren't even going to swim properly.  Well, maybe he understood – with such impractical swimwear, they wouldn't be able to do much anyway.  
  
One of the girls in the water shrieks as she brushes up against some seaweed, her male friend laughing at her expense as he splashes her again.  It's not a particularly unusual scene, but he can't help finding it weird how they're acting.  
  
Finally reaching the shore again, he shakes out his shirt and shorts from the sand – windswept where they had been left earlier.  The ocean breeze isn't enough to get completely dry, but he doesn't mind dressing anyway; middle of the summer day plenty hot enough to keep a chill away.  
  
Pink and white shells line the sand where the waves break, and he picks up a shining one for his grandmother.  She's been lining her windowsill with them lately, softly smiling when he asks her why, only patting his head in response.  
  
The higher in the sky the sun gets, the hotter the sand underfoot.  It's not an especially windy day, but enough that the waves hit the cliff face in a spray of white foam.  There are a few boats out at the edge of the horizon; coming in from the morning's catch.  He's not sure when he started noticing things like that, or if it was just a fact of growing up in a port town – the same way people took it as a fact that he loved swimming, just something that was.  
  
Holding his sandals as he makes his way back to the path, quiet whispers catch his attention.  Hidden in the shadows between the rocky pier and the sand were two of the other beach visitors from before – close as they talked, holding hands.  He's not sure why he's staring, just knows there's something different in their body language from normal.  A laugh, a smile, shoulders bumping.  
  
When they kiss, slow and soft, Haru can feel the intensity of his blush overtake his face.  
  
He feels like he's sunburnt, but knows he isn't – making a quick-turn to run back towards his home; shoes forgotten in hand, and pavement hot against his feet.  Bounding up the stairs, and into his house – not even stopping at the door to announce his return or to drop his shoes – he flops into bed in embarrassment, staring at the ceiling.  It's not the first time he's seen people kiss – he watched films and things, of course – but at that moment it seemed real, not like the climax of a movie or the ending of a fairytale.    
  
Pulling the pink shell, still gripped tightly in one hand, up to look at it, he takes a deep breath.  He could still feel the burning blush on his cheeks, but his breathing is settling down from his mad sprint.  He can hear his grandmother shuffling downstairs, probably wondering why he was acting so weird, can hear her expected wry chuckle in his mind.  
  
Sand that had clung to his legs was falling into the sheets as he dried – sure to itch later if he didn't change the bedding before evening  - but right now he didn't pay it any mind.  Propping the shell atop his pillow, he rolls onto his stomach, head perched upon hands.  Legs kicking in the air a little as he looked at the shell.  
  
“I didn't know two boys could do that too.”  
  


* * *

  
The twins have started daycare, so every day they tell Makoto about the friends they've made in class.  
  
There's Ryouta, who likes to chase Ran in tag; and Natsuki, who already knows how to tie his shoes.  Shiori, who Ran really likes because she can make the best mud pies, and Atsushi, who only colours inside the lines.  
  
Once, Ran came home scraped up and smiling – proudly exclaiming that she climbed the tallest tree out of everyone; Ren sharing stories of how a bird ate some crumbs from his bread during lunchtime.  Makoto rewarding them with tickles or snacks or head pats when he hears.  He doesn't want to spoil them like sometimes the nice old aunties on their street do, but he's proud to have such good siblings.  Glad that he can be their big brother, even if that's hard to do.  
  
So it's a surprise when one day Ran comes home angry and Ren crying, their mother just sighing worriedly when the three come home from the daycare.  Giving a weak smile to her oldest before heading to the kitchen to start dinner, Makoto doesn't want to make her more upset by asking what happened.  Walking quietly up the stairs to the bedrooms, it's a moment before he can collect himself to open the door – stomach flipping a little in nervousness.  
  
Ran is sulking on her bed when he goes in – face screwed up and pillow pulled to her chest.  Ren sitting on his own bed, quiet, little hands wiping at his eyes trying to remove the last lingering traces of his tears.  They're only four years old, but Makoto already feels like they're getting older.  
  
“What happened?” Eyes to Ran, who still has her face down to the pillow – clutching it tighter.  
  
“Mom got mad today, cuz I hit Ryouta.”  Her eyes look less angry now, and more like on the verge of tears; it's a shocking thing to hear for Makoto, though.  “He was being mean.”  
  
“You shouldn't hit, Ran.  Not even when people are mean to you; it's not very nice.”  
  
“He wasn't mean to me,” throwing the pillow down in frustration, “he said Ren was a big, stupid baby; a-and Ren was crying.”  
  
His blood turns icy cold at that admittance, head swinging to where Ren had curled into a ball – his little brother starting to tear up again.  
  
“I-it's all my fault.”  
  
“No, it's not!  It's stupid Ryouta's!”  Four-year-old girl standing on the mattress now.  
  
“Hey, don't shout.  Mom is already upset, right?”  Both twins looking to their older brother now, looking like they're about to burst into sobs.  
  
“I'm happy you were there to protect your brother, Ran.”  Sitting on the edge of the younger boy's bed, allowing his siblings to crawl up close to his sides.  “You were trying to do a good thing, but you can't hurt other people – that just makes everyone sad, right?”  
  
“Does Mom hate me?”  The little girl's voice muffled against Makoto's side, the older patting her head in a comforting way.  
  
“No.  She just doesn't like it when you're mean to other people, even if you think they deserve it.”  
  
It's hard trying to explain to the two why what Ran did was wrong, and their tears bubbling up just seem to fall unbidden.  It's difficult for Makoto to watch without feeling affected too, but he bites his lip to keep himself from sniffling.  
  
It brings back memories of himself; always worried and nervously crying in similar situations, where Haru-chan would save the day.  There had been a few close calls for them too, when his friend had seemed ready to attack on Makoto's behalf – only stopping when he realised that made Makoto cry more; worried about Haru getting hurt or in trouble.  Haru always telling him that there was nothing more annoying than when Makoto cried.  
  
He'd actually thought Haru didn't like him, when he said that – that he was just annoying to his friend; to his neighbour.  It hadn't been until his blue-eyed friend had run back to the Tachibana's house later that night that he knew what he meant – when Makoto saw the flashlight flicker outside his window, catching his attention – the brunet creeping downstairs to meet him.  
  
_“Makoto should never cry.  You're too nice to be sad.”_  
  
It's years old, that memory; but it made him happier than he can explain, even now.  Looking at the worried faces of his younger siblings, he just smiles at them – he understands the sentiment, of wanting to care and protect them from bad things, but he can't condone violence.  
  
“You need to say sorry to Mom first, Ran; and then to Ryouta tomorrow.  I don't think he'll be very likely to be mean to Ren again, but you need to tell your teacher if he is, instead of hitting.”  watching as his younger sister lifts her face to look at him – mouth choking down her sob as she blinks up at him.  “Do you think you can do that?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  


* * *

  
They have a partner project for class to finish, so Haru invited him over.  That's what Makoto thinks, at least.  
  
The house is quiet when they arrive – both Haru's parents still at work.  He considers offering to go work at his place, but soon realises the twins will probably want them to play.  Stepping into the genkan to slide off his shoes and shrug off his bag, he grabs the slippers he usually uses when over at the Nanase's.  
  
“Where's Granny, Haru?”  Not hearing the quiet shuffle of the older woman on the ground floor – perhaps she was sleeping?  
  
“In the hospital again,” blue eyes trained on the floor.  “She has a cough from when she went to the temple on New Years.”  
  
It had been almost a fortnight since the beginning of the year, so it seems like Haru thinks it's more than a cough.  His grandmother had been in and out of hospital recently, but never did she seem worried or sad about it.  
  
Makoto worries his lip a little at the emptiness of the house, but Haru doesn't let him linger on it – taking his hand and dragging him up the creaking staircase to the second floor.  It's an old house, like a lot of the haunted ones from the stories some of the other boys tell during lunch, but this is Haru's home – somewhere Makoto knew he'd never have to worry about being scared in.  Instead, it's the uneasy demeanor of his best friend that has him unsettled.  Only a few times before having experienced this side of Haru; and none of them good.  
  
He sets his books down on the desk Haru has in his room, but neither moves to start working on their assignment; instead just sitting on the floor, back against the edge of the bed.  
  
“I don't like when the house is this quiet,” Haru starts.  “It feels like I'm being swallowed up.”  
  
The Nanase home has never been loud like Makoto's, but he understands what his friend means.  There are certain sounds that are intrinsically a part of this house: the high tinkle of the glass windchime hanging above the verandah, the low mewls of the local stray cats, the ever-crashing waves against the shore.  Quiet footsteps over tatami, the hum of Haru's mother as she prepared a meal, sliding windows being opened to welcome in the night air.  They're things Makoto never realised he noticed until they were gone – the only thing he can hear being the tired sigh of his friend.  
  
“I don't think Granny's coming home, this time,” and it's clear how much it hurts Haru to admit that.    
  
Haru loves her more than he can explain, and Makoto can't help the tightness rising in his throat.  The idea of losing someone who had done so much for him, for them, is too huge.  But he knows why Haru is telling him this.  Because Makoto is the only one Haru _can_ tell.  
  
And so he listens.  Understands that Haru doesn't need kind words or sweet assurances that things will work out; instead just wants to let everything he's thinking, feeling, flow out into the world.  Makoto isn't talented at much, compared to Haru, but he's always willing to try his hardest for his friends, his best friend.  Knows he can let Haru talk if that's what he needs.  
  
The sun gets lower as he listens – sometimes to his best friend talking about old memories they've shared, sometimes about questions he still wants to ask his Granny.  And sometimes Haru doesn't say anything at all, chin hitting his chest, hair falling in front of his face, as heavy breathing betrays the tears Makoto can see dripping into the fabric of his pants.  
  
The ending of the sunset bathes the room in a golden orange as Makoto stands – eyes caught by a beautiful shine.  A singular shell, pink and curved sitting on Haru's windowsill.  Warm when he reaches to touch it, smooth in his hand.  
  
Kneeling back down to where Haru is, one hand gentle as he places the shell against his ear.  He can see the bright blue of eyes staring at him through Haru's dark fringe, questioning.  
  
“Don't you remember, Haru?” The implied _Granny told you about it_ not needing to be said.  “You can hear the ocean.”  
  
He can feel Haru suck in a breath, head shifting as he sits a little straighter.  
  
“This way, it won't be so quiet.”  
  


* * *

  
The funeral service is small, but Haru takes the entire week off of school anyway.  
  
He knows she was happy, was old, was proud of her family – dozens of friends and relatives have told him as much when they come to pay their respects.  Burning incense fills every corner of the house, and her portrait – beautiful and bold even in her old age – sits beside her husband on the altar in the living room.  
  
He's gotten used to not feeling his legs as he sits in seiza, the sharp black of his suit as stiff as his back feels.  
  
It hasn't been as hard as he thought it would be, though.  Whenever his chest aches or the quietness gets too much, he finds the pink seashell sitting on his windowsill – sounds of the ocean in his ear bringing back memories of undersea palaces and promises.  
  
Magic to share with the people he cares about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> First off, I want to apologize for SUCH A LONG BREAK between chapters. When I saw that this had last updated in OCTOBER, I couldn't believe it!! I have absolutely no idea how tat happened, aside from 'life' happening.
> 
> I've been thinking about these two a lot recently, so don't fear abandonment - I could never do that!!
> 
> I can't promise a speedy update, but it will definitely be sooner than this most recent one.
> 
> Find me at compulsive-bibliotaph on tumblr!


	11. 11

It wasn't unusual for them to visit the mountains during his father's summer break from work – the three Nanase's visiting local leisure trails to climb together, sometimes camping out, others just packing a picnic and spending the day.

Cicada's buzz loudly in the air, despite it not being quite hot enough. Sweat drips from his brow; he can feel the drops crawling past the band of his hat and down his neck, shifting his backpack as he steps a little faster. He's thirsty enough to seek out the plastic bottle clipped to his bag, but the middling levels of the water inside hold him off from downing the rest of it – experience has taught him to pace himself, not sure if there will be anywhere to refill at their destination, and sunstroke is the last thing he needs.

Both parents are ahead of him, his mother chatting as his father nods and grins. Every so often they pull him into the conversation or cast their eyes back to make sure he hasn't fallen too far behind. They used to walk together as a three, hand in hand, but Haru's not a child anymore; not wanting them to treat him like a baby.

The sun is mostly blocked by the thick green foliage above, but the morning is still warm and humid – more like the windless days by the beach than their regular hiking trips; he's not sure whether he prefers this or not.

“We're almost there, Haruka; not too much further,” his father turns to tell him. The slope of the hill has evened out on this part of the trail, and he just nods in acknowledgment. He knows his parents aren't surprised at the non-verbal reply, but he feels a little bad about it anyway. Didn't trust his voice enough not to crack – thirsty and somewhat tired. A faint rumbling buzzes in his head and he wonders if maybe he should have had more to drink than the small sips he'd been taking. He's never had a sun-induced headache before, but can imagine that this could be the way it starts.

His parents are wandering off the marked trail now, his father holding the map as his mother makes sure they're reading the signposts right. Stopping beside them, he indulges in another drink from his bottle; no stop to the rumbling.

“Are you alright, honey? We can stop for a rest if you're tired.” His mother is crouching to get a closer look at his face, concern clear in her eyes.

“Just a little thirsty,” shaking his head in refusal. “It's not much farther, right?” Looking to the man still holding the map.

“Just up this way,” the older Nanase confirmed, grin wide as he gave a thumbs up. “And I think you'll like this spot, Haruka.”

Taking a deep breath, and another sip of water at his mother's urging, the youngest Nanase set off again behind his parents. The weather was getting warmer as the sun moved higher in the sky, and the dappled shade from the trees didn't help much as he kept moving. The rumbling grew louder as they continued – larger than the irritable buzz before – and the grade-schooler considered that maybe it wasn't just in his head like he had thought.

Crossing through the last patch of bushes after his parents – his mother holding back branches to let his pass – it wasn't until he was at the other side did he see it.

A waterfall.

Water rushed to the pool beneath it, loudly crashing as it hit, fine spray floating in its wake. The surrounds were well-shaded and comfortable looking, and his mother had already started laying out a picnic blanket, ready to unpack their bento. The air was at least several degrees cooler here, and it was a relief as Haru took a deep breath of it into his lungs.

The sunlight, which had been so hot and cumbersome before was transformed by the waterfall, glistening and refracting off the polished surface of the water and throwing rainbows as it hit. Captured in the moment, Haru couldn't look away, couldn't feel the lingering tiredness of the hike here. It was overwhelmingly beautiful.

Haruka was in love.

* * *

 

Makoto never thought much about his name. It was a little harder than some people's, considering it used two kanji characters – more like the girl's version of the name than any of the one-character boy's – but it didn't really bother him. There were the rare occasions that he had to explain which characters to use, but more often than not, it wasn't something he spent time considering.

His best friend, though, thought a lot about his.

Having grown up with Haruka his entire life, Makoto was much more used to the name being associated with his quiet neighbour and not the cute idol that had a song in the charts at the moment, or the heroine of that shoujo manga the girls in class read, or the girl in class three who almost always wore her hair in pigtails. Haruka, as a name, wasn't weird at all to Makoto – especially not for a boy.

Not everyone else felt the same way, he soon realized.

It started out as small snickers whenever a substitute teacher would screw up the suffix on his best friend's name, which then lead to teasing during activities where they split into groups of boys and girls or boy-girl pairs. Haru never said anything outright about it, but Makoto could tell it annoyed him.

It was a weird balance because most of the people – in their class at least – really liked Haru. Thought he was cool because he had good grades and was good at sports. That he was good at art and never complained when the teacher gave him a task. Everyone thought he was mature. Of course, that included Makoto.

Which didn't really line up with the current scene of his best friend kicking at a clump of weeds in frustration.

“It's not like I chose this name,” not talking to anyone in particular, blue eyes glaring at the flowering weed at his feet. “What makes Satoshi a normal name in comparison?”

Katsuno Satoshi, a boy seated two rows ahead of Haru (three ahead of Makoto), with dark brown eyes and hair to match, one of his front teeth only half-grown-in. Makoto didn't really know him very well aside from the fact he played soccer during the lunch break and that he and Haru had class duty together a few days of the month. Today was one of those days.

“Don't listen to whatever he said Haru-ch-”

“Stop it with the -chan; we're not little kids anymore, Makoto.”

Taken aback, green eyes blinked before Makoto's face crumpled into a frown. He knew his friend wasn't purposefully angry with him; could see in the way his mouth hung open a little in shock and pause before averting his eyes back to the ground. Knew it was just more frustration bubbling from other things.

Taking a breath, he sighs before continuing on – some of the irritation gone from his stance and voice. “The only people who use -chan with each other at this age are girls, Makoto. It's annoying when people think I have a girly name, but it's worse if they treat me like an idiot or a baby; like someone who can't look after themselves.”

It's quiet enough between them to hear the waves hitting the shore softly, a handful of gulls flying overhead despite the cool weather.

“I don't mean it like that, Haru-ch – Haru.” Voice small, hands moving to crumple around his t-shirt hem. “It's just a habit.”

Another sigh and Haru sits on the patch of now-kicked grass unceremoniously – patting the spot beside him in invitation. Dropping his backpack to the side before joining his friend, a gust of wind makes Makoto shiver – the first signs of autumn.

“I don't think that.” Head moving to sit on his knees, pale arms wrapping around his legs. “I know you don't mean it that way, Makoto, but other people do. It's just better if you call me Haru.” Frowning again, he huffs a little, “everyone else can call me Nanase.”

“ _Everyone_ else?”

“Well, most people,” Makoto smothering the smile that's growing at his friend's declarations. “Especially Satoshi.”

Makoto can't help the little giggle that escapes, smiling in apology after; taking his own sigh, green eyes follow the direction Haru was looking before.

“You know, Haru-cha – uh, Haru,” wincing a little at the slip-up, but his best friend just blinking for him to continue. “I don't think anyone thinks you can't look after yourself; you're the coolest person in our class.”

“That's not true.”

“Yes it is, people say you're cool all the time – way cooler than me!” Half a self-deprecating laugh at the declaration, hoping to cheer his friend up.

Blue eyes roll, mouth turning down in a frown. “Then they're just stupid; there's nothing special about what I do.”

“You say that a lot, but that's not true.” Hand moving to scratch at the nape of his neck. “I bet Satoshi-kun was being mean to you because you're such good friends with Aki-chan.”

“What does she have to do with it?” Confused, Haru turns to look at him properly; head raised off his knees.

“Don't you know he likes her?” A quick shake of the head in reply. “You two are pretty close friends; plus you have good grades and are good at sports, so he probably thinks she likes you.”

“That's only because of the swim club. She also swims free.”

Raising a brown eyebrow at the bluntness of that statement, Makoto just shrugs. “He doesn't know that.”

“Well, that's not my problem.”

Sighing again at his best friend's bluntness, Makoto stretches out his legs; moving to stand and head home now that Haru seems to have calmed down from before. Hand out, he reaches to lend support for Haru to pull himself up.

Wiping off his legs from excess grass, Haru's already facing towards the way home, waiting; backpack in place. Another gust of wind blows suddenly that Makoto almost misses it.

“And don't think I'm cooler than you, Makoto.” Already walking away, the afternoon sun catching on the buckles of his backpack, sand shoes soft against the pavement.

* * *

 

Makoto gets a game console for his birthday.

Set up in his room, he has two controllers; the games he has, designed for more than one player. It surprises Haru a little at how excited his best friend was at the gift – getting his Dad to set it up right away, passing the spare controller to Haru as he loaded up a new game. They had never really been ones to spend much time at the arcade just off the foreshore, and video games hadn't played that big a role in their lives thus far. Sure, they had had the opportunity to play some when visiting other people's houses for parties, but Makoto had never joined in – always passed his turn to let someone else try; the older boy had always just assumed that he wasn't interested.

Watching the way green eyes glitter at the bootup has him second-guessing that now, though. That maybe his friend had always wanted to try but never let himself have the opportunity. Maybe he had asked for one as a present this year; that's why the Tachibana's had gotten one for him?

He couldn't help thinking that maybe he didn't know everything about Makoto after all.

The first game they play is some racing one, with 3D cars racing down an incredibly long and increasingly difficult track. His car is the red one, the left side of the split screen showing his view, and the countdown ticks noisily until they can start – Makoto accelerating ahead just as the word GO fills the screen. It's tricky for Haru to get a feel for the controls while trying to keep up with the speeding yellow car of his best friend, but soon enough he's got it down. Haru's never been one for games – especially competitive ones – but is surprised at how much fun he's having. He knows he won't win this round, but he won't be caught off-guard in the next one; Makoto turns to him, grin wide on his face just as he passes the finish line. An exclamation of “that was so much fun, Haru!” celebrating his victory.

They play for hours, but it doesn't seem like it. Sometime in the middle, they switch to another versus game, one that has you cast magic against your opponent to lower their life bar until someone hits zero. It seems familiar, but Haru's not sure where he's seen or heard of it before – instead focusing on trying to press buttons in the right order.

They play so long his thumbs hurt – blood raising to the tips and tinting them red as they throb. He may have overdone it just a bit, but Makoto's match, so he just assumes that's just a part of playing video games.

He's invited for dinner, but his Mom has promised teppanyaki for dinner, so he has to decline. He's been at the Tachibana's since a little after breakfast, to celebrate his friend's birthday and give his gift (a collection of short stories his friend had borrowed from the library half a dozen times, so he was sure Makoto must have liked something about it), so he doesn't feel too bad leaving now.

Thanking the Tachibanas again for having him over, Makoto's mother just laughs a little at the formality. “No need to thank us; you're always welcome, Haru-kun.” Waving him off as he head to pull his shoes on.

“Are you done playing for today?” Curious, he's not sure whether he likes the idea of Makoto practicing and getting a lot better than Haru. His shoes are slip-on, so it only takes a moment before he's standing by the door.

“Yeah; I can't play anymore without you anyway.”

“You could.”

“Against who? Ren and Ran are too little.” Makoto laughing at the thought of his younger siblings playing against him. “I don't think that'd be too fun.”

“Plus, I want to play with you.”

* * *

Two small bodies, floating, buoyant.

He must have lost count of the weeks and not changed their water; the sick curdling of his gut intensifies as he realizes his pets are dead – the final gift from the old fisherman he had befriended so many years ago. His last memory of the kind old man before his death.

The gold-red scales of the two don't shine as brightly outside the water as they did when they had swum amongst each other. Hot tears well as he tries to catch his breath – tight pain building in his head, and he feels like his stomach is full of ice. His mother is hugging him, but he can still see the tank – so lifeless without its normal residents – and it takes a lot not to start sobbing at the sight.

Guilt weighs him down – to most people he'd be overreacting to the death of some goldfish, but he can't help knowing that he was responsible for them, and they died because of his negligence.

The water had made them sick. They needed it to live, but it had killed them so easily. A familiar fear rising, his body starting to shake like a leaf as he can't help remembering the typhoon of years past, the fishing boat sunk and crew drowned. There was something in the water, and it took away things he cared about.

His father fishes them out for him, and a small snack box is fashioned into a shared coffin by his mother. Digging a small hole in the front yard, and deeper at his parents' urging to avoid any of the local strays uncovering them, he makes them a grave. Small stone marking where they now rest, he sends a prayer to the gods in sorrow – to beg for an apology for killing his dear pets, his fishy friends – and to hope that they're happier outside their tank; free to swim wherever they want in the afterlife.

He doesn't know how long he sits in the front garden, silently willing the tears not to fall, but it's long enough that he's still there when Haru comes down the stairs to visit. Blue eyes take in the scene silently, and Makoto isn't sure whether he wants his friend to say something or not. Instead, the older boy turns and heads back up the stairs, leaving Makoto biting his lip, heart sinking.

The beginning of spring was just around the corner, but the morning was warmer than the weeks before. The flowering bushes in their front garden were close to where he sat – the sweet smell of springtime acting as the perfect incense for the small funeral.

Haru returns voicelessly – the only sound of him being the steady steps of his shoes against the stone – and moves to join Makoto sitting on the grass. He's holding a small bottle, one Makoto recognizes as a popular juice brand, filled with water and a bunch of freshly-picked wildflowers. It isn't much, but Makoto feels another round of tears building up. He stops himself from pulling his best friend into a hug but eases into the one-armed embrace he gives – head on his shoulder, Haru's quiet, steady breathing calming in familiarity.

“It's all my fault, Haru-chan,” gaze low and eyes red and tired. “The water wasn't good for them.”

He's not sure if his quiet friend can understand fully what he means, but if he's confused, he doesn't say so – instead just running soothing circles on his back, like Grandma Nanase used to do when they were younger. The soft pink of the flowers in the bottle reminds him of the seashell sitting on Haru's windowsill, of another sad day, much larger than this.

“It's OK to be sad, Makoto. It's OK to cry,” voice low and caring as he pulled him into a proper hug. Like the moment would break if he said anything louder than a whisper. “That's how they know they are loved.”

And so, wrapped up in Nanase Haruka's arms, he cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Another month, another update.
> 
> So there are quite a few references concerning the characters' names in this, so I thought it might be a bit easier to explain in the notes here!
> 
> Haruka's name is very feminine insofar as generally being a girl's name - however, the kanji used for his name (遙) is most typically used for boys if named Haruka and means 'distance'. Comparatively, girls can be named with that or other one character versions (遥, 悠, 遼) also meaning 'distance', but are more likely to use two characters (春香, 春花, 晴香, 遥花) which mean the more feminine 'spring flowers/fragrance'.
> 
> Makoto, on the other hand is a name that is more commonly used for boys, but does have a more even spread over both sexes. Typically male Makotos use one character for their name (like 誠, 允, 周,学, 展) meaning 'truth' or 'sincerity' and female Makotos use two (真実). Makoto Tachibana has a more feminine spelling (真琴) using the 'koto' character meaning 'harp' (technically it's a koto, a Japanese traditional harp).
> 
> Both have girly names, but for different reasons.
> 
> The -chan suffix, as most of you probably know is generally used for children under a certain age, girls, and pets. Haru's annoyance with it is two-pronged. First and foremost, with such a feminine name, with the -chan suffix most would assume he was a girl from just hearing the name. Secondly, it's a childhood nickname, very reflective of being young. For someone as independent and self-assured as Haru, having people use a -chan suffix for him is quite degrading - putting him on a 'young and cute' level compared to the 'strong independent' persona he tries to maintain. He gets annoyed at Makoto's constant use of it, but realises it is a habit and isn't meant in any sort of demeaning way.
> 
> Also interesting to note - not quite relevant, but probably good to mention anyway. Computer literacy and usage is much lower than the western world. Currently, 50% of Japanese households have a computer (compared to 98% in the USA), and only 60% of young people in Japan can use a computer outside of word processing programs. Majority of people under 30 exclusively use their phones for internet searching, and have no use for a computer at home. Keeping this in mind, and the fact that Iwami, Iwatobi's real-life counterpart, is one of the smallest townships in Tottori (which in itself is the least-populated prefecture in Japan) it's not likely that certain forms of gaming and other electronic hobbies would be very high in kids under a certain age.
> 
> Wow, OK, I think that's all the notes done!!
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading! My tumblr is [compulsive-bibliotaph](http://compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com). Feel free to leave me a message, my inbox is open!


	12. 12

He's trying to think about what he wants to be when he gets older; a teacher? A doctor? Maybe he could be an accountant like his Dad – although he wasn't really entirely sure what an accountant did.

Eraser scraps litter his desk, paper smudged with the continuous rubbing from his failed starts. Squinting down, his head is starting to hurt, hand moving to scrub at his eyes. All he has is the stark lines of his name and class at the top corner, the rest of the page miserably blank.

The teacher had given them an assignment to write an essay on what they wanted to be when they grew up – just one of the many things the class was doing to prepare for graduation. He hadn't given much thought to the idea that he'd be leaving elementary school, so really thinking about what he wants to do when he's an adult is almost beyond his imagination. Most of what he dreams about in the future is about hanging out with Haru and swimming, not the type of job he'd want.

He can hear the twins run down the stairs – heavy steps and loud voices as they race to reach the dinner table. He can hear his mother scold them from downstairs, but not the actual words she's saying. Thinks that he should head down to join them soon if he wants to avoid her quiet exasperation.

A break would probably do him good too.

Once he gets to the kitchen, he can see his siblings at their spots – Ren swinging his legs as he waits, Ran sitting on her legs as she leans across the table trying to reach her father's chopsticks. For what reason, Makoto doesn't know. Grabbing a few of the side dishes sitting on the kitchen counter, he sets them down on the table before his mother asks; five spots. The twins have coloured learning chopsticks next to their plates, and Makoto can't remember when he stopped using them too – years and years ago now.

Wow, he had never realised.

He was always getting older, no matter what. That's why the future was so important, even now.

No wonder everyone seemed so interested.

 

* * *

 

He could feel Makoto's frustration behind him – scribbling down a word before hanging his head in a huff. Knows that if he turns around now, all he'll see is his best friend frowning into his school work. He's just about to do just that when he hears the squeak of rubber against the linoleum flooring, the wood of the desk behind him clattering a little.

“Can I go to the nurse, Sensei? My head hurts.” It's the third time this week that Makoto's had to excuse himself, and the teacher just looks to him, sympathetic. She knows the class well enough that she trusts Makoto to not be skipping classes for fun; sighing as she nods her approval.

“Take Haruka-kun with you,” she adds. Dark eyes meeting his own when he breaks his gaze from the other boy. “Just in case you feel worse on the way.” It's pretty obvious to everyone that she means it as a way to keep both boys occupied – knows that Haru would be just as distracted with his furtive glances to the door if he stays here. He'd never outright admit how much he's worrying about Makoto's recurring headaches, but it makes him feel a little less nervous if he goes with him.

They walk to the nurse's together, footsteps in sync as their indoor shoes squeak. Makoto has one hand in Haru's, but the other is at his forehead – the heel of his hand pushing as he groans.

“Sorry about this, Haru-chan,” green eyes hidden by the scrunching of his face. “Ever since the class changed seats, I keep getting headaches. The nurse told me before to get a lot of sleep at night, but I'm still tired.”

“Not your fault,” hand just squeezing the other's a little. “Plus, class was boring anyway.”

The nurse is an older woman, hair tied up in the back and glasses perched on her nose. Haru has never really needed to visit the nurse much, so she's a little off-putting, but Makoto smiles as he bows to her – scratching the back of his head as he explains why he's there _again_.

She directs the younger boy to the free bed in her office, and looks to Haru in question; rather than say anything, he just takes a seat beside his best friend, watching as green eyes drift along the ceiling above.

“Do you think I'm sick, Haru?” He hates considering it, thinking that Makoto might be more than just tired. He wishes water could heal his best friend as much as it does him, but he's not sure suggesting they jump into the pool now would be met with much agreement.

“Just rest; you'll be fine.” Scooting a little closer when a hand reaches for his hem; a subtle tell of nerves or fright, and Haru isn't sure Makoto realises he's doing it. “You need sleep, right?”

The small office is quiet beyond the curtain where they are, so Haru isn't completely sure whether the nurse is still in the room with them, or whether she slipped out to do something else. Makoto's breathing slows and evens out as he lays on the small single bed, hand still clutching at the yellow fabric of the tee his companion is wearing.

Head lolling back, he shuts his own eyes to the view of the ceiling. Foggy memories surfacing of when his Grandmother was in hospital – how she had sometimes wrinkled her brow in pain before sighing. How she had stared out the hospital window towards the ocean near the end of her life.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, he wishes he had brought his bag with him from the classroom. He didn't mind skipping class, but he may as well get his homework done if he's just sitting here, Makoto sleeping. Doesn't want to go back though, for risk of being forced back, and Makoto waking up alone. Decides to return during lunch, when he can get both of their things and not have to worry about the teacher wanting him back at his desk. Makoto mumbles something in his sleep and rolls a little, pulling Haru's shirt farther; huffing a little in laughter, he scoots a little closer, as quietly as he can.

Class can definitely wait.

 

*

 

Makoto has been at the doctor all morning, so he misses the first hour or so of classes. It was the first time in a while that they didn't walk or ride together to school, so Haru isn't really sure how to answer the teacher aside from a shrug when she asks him when he'll be back.

They're halfway through math class when he arrives, the same as usual, but quieter. Apologising for interrupting, the teacher just welcomes him back and continues with the lesson. A sharp snap of something behind him catches his attention, but he doesn't dare turn around when the teacher is facing them. Scribbling down the equations in his workbook, he can hear the whispers of a few people around them; wishing he wasn't sat in front of Makoto so he could see what the big deal seemed to be.

Furtive glances behind him prove unhelpful, as all he can see is Makoto's arm from his vantage point. The clock above the chalkboard indicates that it's almost time for recess, so hopefully the break will come quickly. Five minutes stretch over an hour, and he can feel his foot tapping. There are more whispers going on, but Makoto is suspiciously silent behind him.

The ringing bell shocks him so much he almost jumps, but the end of class is the reprieve he's been waiting for. Without closing his books or putting away any of his things, he spins in his seat, ready to see Makoto.

Green eyes blink back in shock, larger behind the wire frames; Haru seeing something shift in his friend's eyes that he had never noticed before.

“You aren't fuzzy anymore.”

He says it quietly, low enough that Haru is almost certain he's imagined it, until he sees the smile break out.

“You have glasses.” Mentally smacking himself over the head for his idiocy. Can see how that seems to change his best friend's mood – the nervous tension building again.

“Oh, uh, yeah. The doctor said I have a myo-uh... well, he said that I can't see things far away very well,” struggling with trying to remember how to explain. “It was making my eyes tired, so I couldn't even really see anything close either. I have to wear these for class now, and homework, and lots of other stuff too...” trailing off when he realises Haru isn't the only one listening.

“They look good.” It's not lie, and he doesn't really know what else to say; deciding to go with the first thing he can think of. “Will you still be able to swim?”

Makoto laughs at that, shoulders shaking as tries to rub against his eyes, stopping as he realises his new glasses are in the way. Smile fond when he straightens up again.

“Yes, Haru, don't worry,” huffing a little in humour. “I never needed to see to swim anyway.”

 

* * *

 

It seems weird to have Matsuoka in their class.

Well, having someone transfer in January was weird anyway; especially in the sixth grade, just before they would be graduating. Seeing the bright burgundy of the familiar swimmer had shocked him, but he knew Haru-chan had been even more surprised. Matsuoka was the first person either of them had met who had beaten him in freestyle, and Makoto still wasn't sure how Haru had taken that, despite his insistence that he didn't care about winning.

He's all toothy smiles and joking attitude; even his introduction being shrugged off with a laugh. Makoto can't say he really knows how to be so carefree, so he admires that, a little. He reminds him of Haru; the effortless way both seem to go at their own pace, not caring about what others might say or think. Maybe it's what happens when you're good at freestyle – that would explain why Makoto's never excelled it.

So when Matsuoka heads towards Haru's desk during lunch, Makoto isn't surprised to hear the invitation or the refusal; the redhead laughing a little as he draws up a chair, effectively inviting himself to join them for lunch.

Matsuoka is friendly, and makes him laugh, so he seems like a nice person.

Makoto can't understand why Haru acts so cold, though.

 

*

 

Rin doesn't hang around too much with them outside of school and the swimming team, but Makoto can feel his effect on Haru even when he isn't with them – his house farther and in the opposite direction from theirs. Blue eyes distracted as they walk, or run, home. Makoto has never been to good at running, so he lags behind a lot – calling a half-hearted 'goodbye' or 'see you tomorrow' to his friend's back as he runs ahead, unaware or unconcerned about his companion.

He knows Rin wants them for a race – a relay – but it seems like he has other motives. He had told the other boy that he would try to convince Haru to race with them, but deep down he isn't fully convinced he'll be able to do it. Rin seemed to have thought that Makoto had a lot of influence over his best friend, but really he knew that he'd never get Haru to do something he didn't want to.

The lights are on in the kitchen of the house up the stairs, and Makoto's sure that Nanase-obasan would be making dinner for the three of them, similarly to his own mother. His swim bag is slung over one arm, school backpack on the other. Just before opening the door to greet his family, he crouches to check on the small grave – fresh flowers from the day before still in place. Clapping his hands together in silent prayer, he takes the moment to wonder again if they're happy, if they forgive him. Sorry that the water hurt them.

Brushing the dirt off his knees, he pulls both bags up and heads to the front door; the sound of chopping and the sizzle of oil greeting him as he calls 'I'm home.' His siblings coming to jump on his back in welcoming him home – heavy, but happy.

His house-slippers seem a little small when he slides them on, but it's alright.

This is still the same.

 

*

 

There's nothing but white noise crashing in his head when he sees Haru in the water, barely on the bank of the river. He can't remember how he got to him, whether it was himself or Rin who pulled his best friend from the current. Aki-chan has gone, but why? He doesn't know, he doesn't care, because all he can see is Haru, pale as a sheet and breathing hard. Eyes closed and unresponsive.

He doesn't open his eyes. Doesn't react to his name.

 

Why won't he answer?

 

Please, answer.

 

Haru-chan.

 

Haru.

 

_**Haru** _ **.**

 

He might be saying his name, screaming it, or maybe it's all in his head.

Shallow breathing wracks the slim body beneath him – coat soaked through and river mud staining everything. The rapid rise and fall of his chest means he's still alive, still _here_. But maybe not for long. He wishes he wasn't a kid, wasn't stupid and useless and unable to help when his friend is _right there_ being taken by the water. Right beside him, and he can't do anything to save him.

The dark noise in his mind is screaming; nightmares chanting “ _I knew it. I knew it. I knew it._ ” Time may have stopped, but all he can focus on is the rush of the river beside them, high from the winter rain. Hand so cold he's not even sure he should be touching it, but he squeezes it close – fingers interlacing, the other hand pulling on his best friend's shoulder as he pleads, begs for a response.

He can't lose him too.

Not Haru.

 

*

 

Rin tells them he's leaving for Australia a week before the relay. Bricks covered in their hopes and dreams and wishes lay before them, his own childishly declaring 'I swim.'

Makoto's learned a lot about the talkative redhead in the month an a half they had been friends – his father's death, his goal to win the same relay, dreams of swimming in the Olympics – so he's shouldn't be so surprised that he's still learning things, but he is.

“Classes start in the middle of February, so I'll actually be a little late, but the school I'm going to has a really good swimming program and coach,” eyes excited as he shares the news. “I'm going to work my hardest to be the best swimmer there is!”

Wind blows between them and Makoto can't help but shiver, glancing to Haru to gauge his reaction; he's quiet and upset, but the way his back is squared Makoto can tell he's waiting for Rin to continue with whatever he's going to say.

“The relay was the first step I had to take though, and I can't do it without you guys, and Nagisa too, so thank you.”

It the first time he can remember Rin thanking him, either of them, like this. It's heavy with emotion and he can feel himself drawing breath sharply; can hear Haru do the same. Rin's grinning, hand out in invitation.

“Now, c'mon, I'll show you a sight you've never seen before.”

 

* * *

 

They graduate before he realises it, and all too soon he's getting ready for middle school. Uniforms, new books, having to figure out how early he'd have to leave to arrive on time. Having to take a train to get to school for the first time in his life.

They still have a couple days before classes start, luckily, so he spends them as best he can – long midday baths, video games at Makoto's, afternoons at ITSC with the rest of the club. Nagisa complains a lot about being left behind whenever he sees them, but nothing Haru says really helps except for “We'll still be part of the team here, so you'll see us around.”

Australia is meant to be cold, this time of year – the seasons flipped around with the hemispheres. Rin had said he was going to be in Sydney, where the 2000's Olympics had been held. According to the internet at the library there was lots of beaches there; and the whole city was on the water. Seems like a good place to swim.

He doesn't think he could handle the English, though.

A knock on his bedroom door breaks his daydream, his head shifting to move his gaze from the off-white of his ceiling to see who was wanting him. His 'come in' laced with a sigh.

Makoto somehow seemed to get taller every day. His shirts were a little short on his torso, and Haru felt like he was continually readjusting his head so he could look his best friend in the eye this past week. His voice apologetic as he comes to join him.

“Sorry Haru-chan, I hope you're not busy.”

A groan of displeasure, raising himself up on one elbow. “I told you to drop the -chan, Makoto. We're almost in middle school.”

He just responds with a sheepish laugh, blush creeping up his neck.

“Actually talking about that, I was going to ask you for your help, if you don't mind.” One eyebrow raised, he just waits for the brunet to continue. “I'm kind of nervous to do it by myself.”

“What do you need help with, Makoto?”

A hand is brought between them, a small case clutched in it – almost funny with the size difference, Haru thinks.

“What are those?”  
  
“Contacts,” passing them to Haru when he reaches out to them. “I thought it might be easier to wear them for school instead of bringing my glasses; I still sometimes forget them.”

“You're afraid to put them in your eyes?”  
  
“Not afraid, just... I've never done it before. I thought maybe you can tell me if I look like I'm screwing it up.”

“How would I know?”

“Please, Haru?” He even dropped the cutesy honorific.

Huffing in defeat, Haru just nods, letting himself be pulled up from the bed to stand side by side with his friend – yep, Makoto was definitely taller.

They spend the best part of an hour and a lot of reflexive tears practising putting in and removal of contacts; Makoto's eyes are a little red and irritated now, harsh against the green, but he's happy with how easy the process was now. Haru invites him to stay for dinner, and the brunet seems happy to oblige – stomach like a bottomless pit with how often he's been eating recently.

Haru hopes his mother made enough rice.

 

* * *

 

They aren't in the same class.

A bigger school, more students, so it shouldn't be a surprise. Really, it _isn't_ a surprise, but it's weird not recognising everyone as he settles to find a seat.

Haru is in class one, Aki is in class four. The only person he really knows is Shimida Toshiro, a guy who used to appoint himself team captain whenever they played soccer during lunch.

Class introductions are sort of brief, and he's trying to remember the names of his new classmates – a list of unfamiliar people filling the room. He's fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve, his entire uniform smaller than when he had bought it a month ago. Haru had said he was growing, but he hadn't noticed until this morning – new contacts in, dressed and ready for the train.

Homeroom goes on a little longer than he expected, and a lot of people approach him, smiling, friendly. They seem nice, like good classmates to share the coming school year with – he has to remind himself that they're all new at this, that middle school is a big step up from elementary – and his smile comes easy. Likes the idea of meeting some new friends.

He's still missing Haru, though.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you all enjoy the new chapter.
> 
> So, because this is the same age the characters are during high speed, there are some pretty obvious references to events in the book in this chapter; I didn't want to make it all about that though, so I hope you enjoy the extra story!
> 
> Not too many notes this chapter; Makoto has myopia, more commonly known as short- or near-sightedness. Most people wear glasses or contacts to combat against this, so Makoto has both!
> 
> Another note about the school year. Because Japan is in the northern hemisphere, the summer is right in the middle of the year - so like most, if not all schools in the northern hemisphere, students have a summer break during those months. Unlike the US or UK though, Japan starts it's school year in April and continues til mid-March of the following year. So they start school, have a two month break after their first semester (which is also two months) and then come back for the second semester in September, and continue pretty much unbroken until March. They only get a week off for Christmas/New Years between the second and third semester.
> 
> In comparision, here in Australia our summer coincides with the Christmas break, so we have the entire end/beginning of the year off for break - and rather than 3 semesters, we have four!. Because of that, school starts in mid-February and runs in 10-week blocks until the middle of December. Rin would have been a couple weeks late for the beginning of classes when he moved to Australia, but it was probably better than leaving early and never technically graduation elementary school, haha.  
> (Also, depending on the school, it was most likely that he would have still been in elementary classes, as Australia doesn't typically have middle schools; although some high schools are now incorporating the seventh grade as a 'transition year' between elementary and high school.)
> 
> But thank you all again for reading - my tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph, so feel free to message any time!!


	13. 13 part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Sato and Tomo are female classmates from High Speed 2. They won't be large parts of this fic, but needed an introduction for anime-only fans. More backstory for them will be found in the end notes.

Getting dragged into the swim team seemed strangely reminiscent of all the times before that his friends hadn't let him have a choice in plans, but at least he was able to swim as much free as he wanted, per the captain's conditions. He had wanted to check out the art club though – well, depending on how things go, that might still be an option.

Makoto is halfway through stretches, chatting to Aki about their history teacher and something that Mochizuki stumbled over during lunch. They're laughing lowly, shoulders shaking. The manager, Nao, is checking over the day's menu. Haru's still not great at fixing his polite speech for his upperclassmen, but Serizawa-senpai is someone he doesn't need to think about being respectful to. He's still a little unnerving – yokai-like – but he understands Haru well.

The group of first-years are supposed to keep working on their karuta slap, but he can't help feeling like they should start focusing more on their individual strokes. The warm up of 200m free flies by quickly, and it's such a change seeing how relaxed Makoto is in the water compared to the stress he had just before the relay before their elementary graduation. Diving in, the water is cool as it cradles him. The stress of the day sliding off as he heads to the 25m mark; even if everything else has changed recently, two things stay constant – water and Makoto.

By the time he reaches the 200m mark, he's panting harder than expected. He's waiting for the familiar outreached hand of his best friend, but instead, Asahi's frustrated face is all he can see in his immediate line of sight. Makoto stands to the side of the pool with Nao, staring off into space – eyes farther than the spot he's focused on. It isn't til he says his name that Makoto seems to shake off the disconnect, and it makes the chill of the pool cut through him in the moment. He smiles, but it's not enough to counteract the half-minute of silence from before.

The rest of practice goes by layered in a foreign tension. Haru can feel his skin prickling every time he's out of the water, and the sinking stone in his stomach getting heavier when he's swimming. He never has a chance to ask Makoto what's wrong whilst the senpai are keeping an eye on them, but the brunet doesn't even catch his eye once during the rest of their drills either.

Towelling off once everything is done, not even Asahi's mindless chattering can break the heavy mood. Makoto doesn't even chuckle at the redhead's inane declarations. It's obvious to even the other first years that something is up. Makoto is acting weird, and Haru can't understand what changed in the last hour.

It's even worse when he denies anything is wrong.

Makoto has never been good at lying, and it stings hearing the avoidance in his best friend's voice. Pretending things are fine is something he's guilty of, he knows, but Haru has never seen this sort of unease from the brunet. The walk home is tense and the steady breaking of waves on the shore is the only sound between them. Wind blows cold from the ocean; and the grey-orange of the sunset seems to be sinking slower than usual.

Despite the silent walk home, Makoto is still trying to allay Haru's worries with his unconvincing words, smiling before heading into his house – long legs skipping over the top few steps to get there faster. It's the first time his smile hasn't reached green eyes, and the older boy just frowns at where the other young teen had been.

One of the local cats cries at his feet, and it takes a sigh, a soft pat and a readjustment of his backpack before Haru starts up the stairs to his own house to where his mother is most likely waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

Makoto can't believe it's happened again.

It was less than six months ago that Haru had been admitted to the local hospital with pneumonia; so to see him passed out with another IV drip stuck in his arm was the last thing he'd expected from today. They had finally made up, finally gotten the awkwardness of unsaid feelings and unsure decisions out in the open with their late-night visit to Iwatobi Swim Club. Maybe if he'd gone over to the Nanase's afterwards and made sure Haru had eaten properly this wouldn't have happened – he knew he hadn't been eating the food he had brought over, hadn't he? – but instead, he'd been worried about his mother scolding him for leaving for so long. For the strong smell of chlorine stuck in his outfit.

He'd just decided to be a better friend, right?

Luckily, Ikuya had gotten the kind woman at the convenience store to call an ambulance pretty immediately. The red light flashing incessantly just like it had that afternoon on the riverbank. After the paramedics deemed it a mix of low blood sugar and anemia, they took all of them in the back of the ambulance to the closest medical center. At least the sirens weren't wailing this time. Regardless, he didn't let go of Haru's hand the entire ride.

It wasn't until the doctor asked for a number to call Haru's parents that Makoto forced himself out of the silent despair choking down in his throat. He calls his own mother, breathing deep to collect himself before she answers on the second ring. He doesn't know where Ikuya or Asahi are, but he hopes that they're with Haru, just in case he wakes up; so he isn't alone.

The last time he'd done this, Rin had called him strong, but that couldn't have been farther from the truth. Elementary school or middle school, it didn't matter; Makoto needed Haru in ways he couldn't even really explain to other people. And, he hoped, it was the same for Haru.

He goes to the small treatment room where his teammates are once the call is done, and the other two boys have left the seat closest to Haru empty for him. He can't even feel the proper level of embarassment for freaking out earlier in front of them – crying Haru's name uselessly as he went limp in his arms – but he's sure it will hit eventually. Or maybe being teammates lets them understand a little better than most.

Blue eyes are still closed, but his breathing isn't laboured like before. Makoto wants to reach out for his hand again, but thinks it might be a bit innappropriate now that the initial panic has slipped away.

“You guys are really close, huh?” It's Asahi who says it, but from the way he's nodding, Ikuya agrees.

“We grew up together. We've always known each other,” he can feel their eyes on him, but Makoto can't tear his gaze away from the slow, steady, rise and fall of Haru's thin chest. He hadn't grown much since elementary yet – not like Makoto who couldn't seem to stop getting taller – and it was just another reminder that not much had changed even if they were a grade older now. “Our houses are right next to each other – we can see each other's rooms from our windows.”

It's hard to explain to people who haven't known them for very long. They're friends. They're family. They're –

“He's going to be fine, Makoto; the doctor said so.”

He smiles; the first time since this all happened, and it feels like it doesn't quite fit his face.

“Yeah, I know.”

His mother gets there quickly, considering she had to call a cab and find a sitter for the twins, and goes to talk to the doctor. Pulling out the Tachibana insurance card, he can see her glancing over to them, checking on Haru; or maybe both of them. Even though he knows it's going to be all right – that his best friend will be able to leave the doctor's tonight and rest at home – he won't be able to stop worrying until Haru wakes up.

Needless to say, Makoto has to bite back the tears of relief, hiding them in the other's shoulder in a hug once he does.

 

* * *

 

Haru can't seem to scowl enough to dissuade Kisumi from hanging over his shoulder, jerking him out of any sort of illusion to staring out of the window beside his desk. Asahi is talking about something stupid again, and the fluffy ends of the other boy's head is tickling against his cheek as he nods in agreement. The few girls hanging around Kisumi's empty desk are glaring darkly in their direction, and Haru really has to wonder how they haven't gotten the message yet. Also urging them silently to stop blaming _him_ , it's not liked he ever asked for his classmate to stick to him like bubblegum.

And not only with Kisumi's fans; he'd heard a lot of the rumours floating around about the two of them. Just because the basketballer had no idea about personal space, and frustratingly, always wanted to feed him. No common sense whatsoever.

Ever since the completely embarrassing incident of him passing out in the middle of the street, everyone had made it a point to spend every lunch with him, even Kisumi. Even after the week they spent over at his house and his mother had come home. It's not like they didn't see each other during swim club, or after club activities when they walked home in Kisumi's case, so Haru didn't really get why they had to spend their short lunch break together too. Preferred to just let his mind wander across the spread of buildings of the view outside; especially considering Makoto had gone to the staff room to give his homeroom teacher some handouts, leaving Haru alone with only Sano and Ikuya as defense against the dual terror of the idiot butterflyist and idiot basketballer.

Once summer break starts tomorrow they have training every day; the most recent relay win last week being the first of many upcoming swim meets in the next few months. He's expecting the captain to enrol him for the short-distance free events again – an improvement from having to do all of them like the first time he had swum against Sousuke. Even he can admit he had been stubborn and stupid to agree to that. Still mostly Natsuya-senpai's fault though.

The sun is bright as it spills over his desk, warm as he tries to stretch out a little farther whilst Kisumi seems intent on staying attached across his shoulders.

They're getting the handouts for their summer homework before the end of the day, and the stack of papers already in his book bag is enough for him to frown. As library attendants, both he and Sato had three book reports due for the end of the break too, which would just be another pain – time to search his father's library again for something that looked half-decent.

He doesn't really notice anything's amiss until the heavy weight of his classmate leaves his back. Usually that's a sign for the end of lunch, but the bell hasn't rung yet, so it seems strange. Drawing his eyes back to the class, he's met with the class rep, Tomo, arms crossed in front of her.

Sitting up straighter, the class is quieter than he remembers, but it might just be because Asahi has stopped talking.

“Could you come help me for a second?” It's asked like a question, but it doesn't feel like it. Haru's still not sure if the class rep actually likes him, or still feels guilty about when she fell and ended up hitting his leg. Geez, everyone had taken that bruise way more seriously than needed.

Shrugging, the stretch in his back feels good after being cramped under Kisumi for so long.

He follows her to the home economics room again, blue eyes darting to the top shelf to see if the open bag of flour is still sitting there. Dark brown eyes are watching him carefully as he pulls the door closed behind them, and she takes a deep breath before putting both hands on her hips.

The sweet smell of sugar is still in the air, and it makes him wonder if the home ec club had been making cookies again.

“Nanase-kun, I have something I want to tell you.” He just blinks back, confused. Pigtails swing as she shifts her eyes to the ground before looking back at him.

She looks like she's waiting for some kind of acknowledgement, so he waves his hand in encouragement for her to continue.

“Watching you swim, it...” she stumbles over her sentence, but Haru barely notices it amidst trying to figure out why she called him away for this. “You're amazing, Nanase-kun.”

“...Thanks.”

“I don't just mean in swimming though,” and now Haru is really confused. Wondering if Kisumi or Makoto have been overplaying his achievements to other people again. “You're really smart; your book reports are always in the school paper, and you did really well on the last quiz we had.”

“I study the same amount as everyone else.” She looks a little shocked he replied to that, but he can't see why it's such a big deal. Wonders if there's a point to this happening in the home ec room.

“I like you, Nanase-kun!” She basically yells across the room, and Haru feels like he's been hit full-force by a wave. Can see the frustration and embarrassment bubbling under her blush. He tries to say something to her, but she keeps talking before he can get his tongue to work. “Not just because you're smart or good at sport though; you're really nice and care about others a lot, even if you are quieter than others. You've helped me so many times, even if I'm interrupting your lunch – like right now,” arm going out to emphasise her point.

“Please accept my feelings.”

Haru needs to respond soon, or he may never be able to talk again. It's not like he ever expected this, and it makes him feel bad that maybe he had been ignoring Tomo's feelings, but even so, this was too abrupt.

She's not saying anything; maybe waiting for him to say something, and Haru can clearly see that this is just as hard for her as it is for him. She doesn't deserve to be hurt because he's cold, but at the same time, he's never been one for putting on a façade for someone else's benefit – that's Makoto's speciality. Instead he decides to take the time to consider how he feels about the girl standing across from him.

“Please give me some time to think about it.”

She bites her lip, but nods. He decides to leave first, giving the class rep time to collect herself before going back to the class, and he tries to think up a believable excuse for when Kisumi asks about it.

There's not much time left of lunch, but the bell hasn't rung yet, so he may still have time to finish the rest of his bento, if it was still there after being left with Kisumi and Asahi, unguarded.

The door to classrooms are always open during lunch, so he hears him before he sees him. Makoto's laugh floating like a sweet note above the usual bustle of students. Someone runs out before he gets to the door frame, chased by one of the other boys towards the vending machines, and Haru steps back to avoid colliding with them.

It may have been a better idea to let them run into him if he knew how shell-shocked he was going to feel at the sight of Makoto backlit by the windows – green eyes moving from Sato to Haru; lighting up as he smiles just a bit softer. Obviously finished with his errand.

The sight reminds him of their night swim, where Makoto's smile and feeling had shaken him to the core – nostalgic and safe, of a life lived by each other's side. Remembering Makoto's earnest confession as they floated in the empty pool together. How easily Haru had found an answer, a response for his best friend's heartfelt words.

It's that feeling that he realises he's missing from Tomo's love confession. He told her he needed time to consider his own feelings, but now it's obvious after he had given it enough time for the shock to wear off. Tomo is a good person, and she's someone a majority of the class would probably date if they were confessed to, but Haru doesn't think of her as anything more than a classmate.

She doesn't deserve her heart broken; but nor does she deserve anything but the truth.

 

* * *

  

Makoto always invites Haru over to his house after their summer training. His mother has most days scheduled to work at the supermarket, so it's better than his friend going back to an empty house until his parents get back. Ikuya and Asahi and Kisumi come too if they have the time, but more often than not, it's just the two of them. The twins appreciate the attention regardless.

They've had two more major races since the regionals just before summer break started, but after prelims for prefecturals Iwatobi Middle School just missed the time cut-off for the first-year events. Natsuya and some of the other third years still have a few events left, but the summer season is almost over for them. Makoto can see the effort they're putting into each stroke as he and the rest of the team watch from the stands; third years have to retire from the club after summer break, and it's sad to think their usual days of being trained by Nao-senpai will soon come to an end. It's been tough training the past four months, and he gets aches in muscles he didn't even know he had, but he definitely feels faster in the water. He knows Haru agrees too; the biaxial technique helping him keep streamlined whilst reducing fatigue over long distances. They're both becoming better swimmers, and it's fun every day. Even if he gets so tired that by 9pm he's ready to crash into bed.

They have sparklers left over from the four of them spent time at Haru's house in the lead up to their first big race, and nothing says summer better than fireworks. Nothing as grand as the festival earlier in the month, but even the small backyard ones should be fine to celebrate their victories with the Iwatobi Middle School team.

Ran chases her twin brother with a sparkler as golden flickers shoot from it. The bucket of water for spent sparklers is at the base of the patio step, and Haru is drawing a dolphin with the afterimage of the burning firework in his hand. Makoto doesn't have the artistic skill for something that complex, but he manages a smiley face, ocean waves, a heart, before the sparks die down. There aren't many left from last time so they only burn a few before they're finished, and both preteens clean up the remnants.

The plan is for Haru to stay the night, and then tomorrow being spent on summer homework. They still have time before the end of break, but both boys think it's a better idea to get it done sooner than later.

The twins go to bed first, both first-graders asleep near instantly after their bath, and Haru and Makoto stay up playing a racing game- an old favourite; a little outdated, but neither care.

It's close to midnight when they finally decide to go to bed – Haru curling into the futon before Makoto even has a chance to turn the lights off. He's bone-tired and yawns as he climbs into bed, stepping carefully over his friend. Settling into the mattress as he drifts to sleep almost instantly – Haru's steady breathing a soft lullaby drifting into the room.

He doesn't know what wakes him up, but his bedside light is on and Haru's eyes are wide when he blinks awake. Frowning, it's then that the ache in his legs becomes obvious, head pounding with headache like he gets when he tries to read too long without his glasses. He whimpers in pain, and blinks past tears as he realises he's been crying in his sleep.

“Makoto” _What's wrong?_ Trying to take deep breaths, he can't make out Haru's expression through the haze of pain. A cool hand touches his forehead, and he just shakes it off in discouragement.

“Go get mom.”

Haru's gone before the next wave of aching hits, and he bites his lip against the groan of pain. Haru is probably gone for less than a minute, but it feels like a small eternity before he returns, Makoto's mother soft in her dressing gown and slippers behind him. She takes one look at her son curled up in his bed, and smiles sadly at him; moving to sit next to him and pet his hair back from his face.

“Where is it hurting, sweetheart?”

“Legs again. And I have a headache.”

“OK; I'll be right back. I'm going to go get some painkillers and zinc tablets for you to take.” She motions for Haru – still standing by the door looking utterly lost – to take her place on the edge of the bed. “It's only growing pains Haruka, nothing serious. Makoto's gotten them before.” She pats his head too before heading to retrieve their medicine box.

Haru still looks a little unconvinced about everything, so Makoto tries his best to smile him. He just frowns back.  
_  
_ “Don't smile if you don't mean it.” Blue eyes watching him concerned, flicking down from his face to the door hoping the older Tachibana gets back soon. Head ducking down as he pushes gently against his shoulder, not wanting to cause any more pain, but clearly expressing his disapproval.

“And you don't need to get any taller, idiot.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for being so patient yet again between chapters! Is everyone else still emotionally fragile after the High Speed movie? I know I sure am. I think KyoAni did a great job of adapting the important material for the film, and as a whole ended up a much better plotted story than the novel. That said, there is a bit of fusion between the two in this fic - most notably with female classmates who were left out of the film.
> 
> Sato is a childhood friend of Natsuya and Ikuya, and in the novel was very concerned about the rift in their friendship since the two brothers started fighting. Ikuya is in Makoto's class in the novel, so she and Makoto interact a lot trying to reach out and help him when he refuses to join the swim club. She and Haruka volunteer for library duty for their class, so they spend a lot of time together at the meetings (as well as with Nao who is the head of the Library reps). She is also a member of the Iwatobi Middle School swim team, as well as Aki and two of the girls Aki swam the relay with in elementary school. There are 4 first year girls who join the team in addition to the 4 boys.
> 
> Tomo is the class president for 1-1. She's described as having a personal grudge against the fact that Haru doesn't want to interact and get along with the rest of the class. She's in the home ec club and often asks him to do menial chores for her in an effort to get him to participate. She almost falls from a ladder trying to reach a high shelf and Haru bruises his leg whilst diving to catch her. She bakes him cookies twice in the novel - first as thanks for helping with chores, secondly as apology for his injury. Haru doesn't really understand her motivations, but I think they're pretty obvious.


	14. 13 part 2

Haru invites everyone over to cook sweet potatoes when Nakamura-san from down the steps offers him a bag of the root vegetables as he's coming home from seeing his mother at the grocery store.

That does mean everyone; even extending the invite to their few female friends, and Nagisa too – Haru telling him to join them if he has time between studying for the Middle School entrance exams. Even Kisumi gets pulled into the larger group as they plan the small get-together, and Haru doesn't really understand how he had managed to get so many friends in such a short time. He wasn't quite sure if he had changed, or if the rest of the world had.

Saturday morning his Mom helps him build the small bonfire in their yard – far from any of the plants, as not to catch them with stray sparks, and shows him how to check the freshness, season, and prepare the potatoes for roasting. He hasn't really done this without his parents before, or his grandmother, now that he thinks about it, so he's feeling a little more grown up – not that he'd really ever admit to that, though. He had been trying to become more independent and trustworthy since the, uh, last time he had been left alone. But none of his friends needed to know that.

Makoto arrives first, as expected, as always, one twin holding each hand. They bring pickled squid with them, a sour compliment to the sure sweetness of their expected snack, and Haru takes the bag in thanks. Haru watches his mother chat with the Tachibana twins as they make themselves known; unheeding to their older brother's encouragement to be polite guests. Sighing in defeat, Makoto turns to Haru instead, looking to help, and smiles when all he answers with is a glass of barley tea.

Next to arrive is Kisumi, much to Haru's chagrin; and he can't quite remember why he had invited him as he slipped one arm across Makoto's shoulders and joked. Luckily, he was quickly followed by Ikuya and Sato, both bundled to the ears in their autumn scarves – cheeks pink despite that. Asahi arrived unexpectedly with Aki, having met by pure coincidence at the station, and Haru can hear Nagisa before he even reaches the door.

They put the foil-covered potatoes in the fire one by one, and Haru crouches at its side to slowly fan the smoke drifting to the grey mid-morning sky. Nagisa is chasing the twins around, and both girls chat happily as they sit on the edge of the patio. Kisumi seems to have dragged Ikuya and Asahi into a game of Janken, with no clear purpose. He isn't sure how someone as large as Makoto has managed to slip away without him noticing, but it isn't until the taller boy comes out with a tray of drinks and the squid that Haru realises he'd been looking for him.

Once he's done offering everyone a cup, he moves to crouch beside his best friend – arms folding over his knees as green eyes watch the small, flickering flames.

“You shouldn't have to do that; I'm the host.”

“You're busy, Haru-chan,” younger boy biting his lip in humour against the glare Haru sends his way.

The wind is cool in the late-October air, but the warmth of the fire next to them means that neither really feels it. Haru can feel the ghost of a smile curl when he hears Ran's cry of “IT” as she hits Nagisa on the elbow before weaving around to avoid the older boy. Both second-graders quickly giggle as they head to the other side of the garden.

Beside him, Makoto's voice is soft and warm, almost like the thin smoke Haru is currently fanning at. Drooping eyelids making his gaze look like it's farther than Haru can tell.

“Thank you for inviting us, Haru.”

“It's no big deal.” And it isn't. Doesn't quite understand what he's thanking him for, when it just made sense to Haru for the Tachibanas to be here.

“It is, Haru. I don't think you understand how excited Ren and Ran were to be invited to a 'big kids' party. It means a lot for you to include them.”

“They're family, so of course I did.” Because the Tachibanas _are_ family, basically. He doesn't know why Makoto's responsive smile causes a sunburst in his chest, but he might be getting a little loopy after sitting so close to the fire for so long. He downs his glass of barley tea quick enough to choke on it, but luckily he doesn't. Kisumi is heading their way before Haru has time to scowl, plopping himself on the other side of Makoto, and all at once, their warm little closeness is gone.

“Food ready, Haru?”

He doesn't want to grace his annoying classmate with a proper answer, and instead just shoves the fan into the other boy's hands as he reaches for the tongs to pull out the silver-wrapped potatoes. Unwrapping them, and breaking them into two, he starts passing the warm food around. Everyone grabs a half to eat, and the warm steam flickers as they all blow on them to cool; hands warming through the thin napkins against the cold autumn morning.

“No fair, Ren! Your half is bigger than mine,” the young girl pouting as Haru passes Makoto the other half of the last potato. It's a familiar argument, and he knows exactly how it's going to play out.

Just as expected, Makoto cuts in, offering his own food in swap to his younger sister – soft smile and smooth words preventing any more complaints from the young girl. Ren looks at his own untouched sweet potato with wide eyes and a trembling lip, and Haru sighs a little before he offers his own to the younger Tachibana boy with a slight smile of his own. All it means is that the twins switched one potato with another, but they seem happy at the development and run to sit at the edge of the patio near Ikuya and Sato – the breaststroker pink in the cheeks as he bites into his food, his friend talking about how they'll have to work hard before winter break on keeping the good momentum of the swim club up whilst they can't use the pool.

The sweet potatoes are sweet, as he expected. Warmth blossoming throughout him as he chews slowly. Asahi is blowing steam from his mouth like he's some sort of dragon as he struggles with his hunger and the heat, and everyone chuckles at his antics good-naturedly. Even so, Ikuya rolls his eyes in clear defiance of his mouth curled in a smirk.

He swept before the guests arrived, but a few stray leaves skitter in the wind nonetheless. Kisumi has moved from his spot next to Makoto to join Nagisa in ribbing Asahi as he continues with the dragon act. He's grown taller, like Makoto, but lanky. Well, it's not like Haru spends much time noticing that sort of thing, but it's a fact that he's used to Makoto next to him in the showers after practice – and his best friend isn't just gaining height, but a certain amount of bulk too. He's still awkward in his new body, but Haru can tell that Makoto isn't done with his infuriating growth spurts yet.

He moves to plop himself next to the fire again, the flames licking past the small triangle of wood. He doesn't need to turn his gaze from the dance of heat to know that the backstroker has joined him - a tell-tale little 'oof' accompanying the shift of air around him.

When he does look to his side, green eyes are focused on the small fire too; golden skin glowing in the warm light. Smile so soft it looks like it's being melted by the heat, Haru wonders what he's thinking about. It's too late before he realises he's been staring when those green eyes flick to him – molten and warm like his smile.

Haru is definitely sitting too close to the fire. He's overheating.

* * *

Makoto isn't sure what changes over the winter break, except that it's big.

Haru is unresponsive when their families go to the shrine together for the new year; blue eyes cast to the ground even as he rings the bell and makes his wish. There are hundreds of people around them – a crowd all out to celebrate a year past, a year coming. Fear curls in Makoto's gut as the night continues and his friend still hasn't said anything. As in nothing. Haru is a quiet person, sure, but he's never silent, despondent.

And it doesn't go away. Instead, it gets worse.

Haru leaves his home for school with wet hair dripping into his collar more often than not. He's taken up soaking in cold baths in the morning, despite the winter weather. His mother waves them off worriedly each morning, the both of them sharing a sad smile as Haru heads down the steps silently. They all sit together for lunch, as usual, but none of the energy ever transfers to Haru. He doesn't smirk at Asahi's stupid antics, or smother his knowing smile as Ikuya trips over his words when talking to Sato. He doesn't even frown in annoyance whenever Kisumi joins the conversation. Everyone knows something is wrong, but no one knows how to broach the subject. There's uneasy tension between all of them, and Haru doesn't notice as he stares out the window towards the track fields.

January tenth; that's when it happens.

They're walking home, quiet aside from the hitting of waves against the shore. Makoto doesn't know how much longer he can handle this unease, and his stomach feels like the ocean break beside them. Gulls call, and wind whistles between the store fronts. Promotional flags flap wildly at the front of the convenience store, and it's all making Makoto even more nauseous.

“I'm going to quit swimming.” It's the first thing Haru has offered voluntarily in days, and the words make Makoto's stomach drop.

He had researched depression a few days ago, hoping to find an answer to help his best friend. Everything he had read told him this was a warning sign, but still, he didn't know what to do. He tries to take a deep breath to keep the tears and waver of his voice at bay. The result is little less than a whimper though, despite his best efforts.

“Why, Haru?”

He looks like he's been slapped. Eyes wide and frantic, like he didn't expect any sort of response, questioning of his statement. It hurts deep in Makoto's chest that Haru doesn't understand why Makoto is asking this. He thought he'd been clear before, but now...

Swimming was a such a huge part of their history together, that to stop was so... it felt like Haru was rejecting a part of Makoto, even if it wasn't his intention. The fact that this was the first thing he had said to him in days just made it worse. Makoto can't see anything but the fear in his best friend's eyes, looking cornered. He doesn't want him to wear that expression, ever, but especially not when talking to him. Haru looks for words, and still the waves crash – loud and turbulent as the soundtrack to the moment.

“I never wanted to compete to start with.” It's a flimsy lie. Such a flimsy, flimsy lie that Makoto can't believe Haru can think it will work. Never breaking his gaze, he knows that they both agree, but Haru's hoping he won't call him out on it. There's another thud of his heart before the older boy completes his thought with, “I shouldn't be part of a team; I just ruin everything anyway.”

Makoto actually falls to the ground at that, knees buckling with Haru's words. There's a dull throb that is easy to ignore as Makoto watches the war of expressions on the other's face. Something looks like it's going to burst, Haru gritting his teeth, eyes moving from avoidance to wide to squeezed shut as time stretches. Things finally settle on panic as he spins to sprint away, PE bag slapping his side roughly as he heads to the stone steps without Makoto.

Only then can Makoto feel the warm tears dripping down his face as the rejection stings raw.

He doesn't remember walking home, but crumples as soon as he sits to take off his shoes in the genkan. Wet sobs into his knees as he sits with one shoe on, bags and his large frame taking up the entire access to the door.

He's meant to be better than this; he doesn't cry like this, not even when he's in the privacy of his own room and the nightmares visit.

Guilt joins the pit of his stomach, along with the self-deprecation. His mother finds him like this, stricken and snot-faced. She pulls him into a hug, shushing him calm and telling him to get some rest. He cleans his face in the bathroom sink before changing and curling into the sheets of his single. She comes in with a cool wash cloth, and thermometer, checking his temperature and softly wiping his face down. Noting he wasn't sick, she just stays where she's sat, arm petting along his as his breathing calms.

“Do you want to tell me what's wrong?”

He feels miserable, guilty even for this – for distracting his mother from her cooking or work or whatever she was doing – and can't help his shaky exhale as he wills the new tears away.

“I-I don't know what's wrong. H-Haru -” cutting to another sob as his mother's face shifts to one of understanding. They had all noticed the young Nanase's recent change – of course they did – so he was glad he didn't really need to elaborate more.

They sit in comfortable understanding as his mother keeps her petting of his arm, possibly waiting for him to add more to his last statement.

Instead, the tell-tale ring of his phone breaks the silence; Haru's name lighting up the screen. They had gotten matching styles together at the beginning of last year so their families could contact them. This was the first time Makoto had ever seen Haru use his. He scrambles to pick up.

His mom leaves to give him a little privacy, and before he can say anything Haru is talking down the line.

“ **Makoto** ”, _I'm sorry_ , he doesn't say, but he can hear it anyway.

“Haru,” the only reply he can give. And that's what starts it. Haru just says his name, over and over, voice breaking and heavy and laced with a distance that makes Makoto know his best friend is working through something he's not brave enough to face fully yet. Moving to the small window aside his bed, he draws back the curtain on gut instinct. He doesn't expect Haru to be doing the same – the voice on the phone echoing the movements of his mouth as they look to each other. He looks lost, small, and it hurts him to see the bravest person he knows so fragile. A different fragility from the times he was hospitalised, or when his grandmother had died, but painful nonetheless.

Makoto presses his hand to the glass, wishing he could reach out. Hears Haru's breath catch in his ear.

“I'm here, Haru.” _No matter what_. He's figured out what he's going to do. Asahi, and Ikuya, and Aki, and Natsuya-senpai, and everyone won't understand, but that doesn't matter. In this moment, he realises that Haru needs him, more than ever – even if he doesn't know it, Makoto can't imagine any other outcome. Haru doesn't have to fight against whatever is hurting him alone.

They stay like that, watching each other from their respective windows, until Haru moves his hand to match Makoto's. Makoto can't help smiling at that, heart thudding a little off-pace until Haru moves back, sigh down the phone.

“ **Thank you**.”

He hangs up abruptly, disappearing into the darkness of his bedroom, but Makoto doesn't feel so nauseous, heavy like before. Drinking half of the glass of water he hadn't noticed his mother had left, he puts his phone in his pocket and opens his bedroom door quietly.

He can hear his parents talking lowly in the kitchen, a normal crash from the twins' room giving away where they were. He hadn't realised it had gotten late enough for his father to be home yet.

“...find out what's wrong?”

“Just a bad bout of puberty, it seems,” a soft laugh, loving from his mother. “They'll work it out. They always do.”

A knowing hum in response. He wonders if this was as normal as his parents seemed to think it was. No one had warned him Middle School hit so hard.

* * *

He turned in his resignation form to the club advisor on a Thursday, bowing in gratitude as the baffled coach took it wordlessly.  Haru was glad he didn't try to convince him to stay like he thought he would.

It was Friday morning when Ikuya rounded on him in the hallway before class – hurt and tears in his eyes as he asked why he was quitting.  Asahi burned in anger beside him, but from the way they looked, it doesn't seem that it was unexpected that Haru was withdrawing like this.

“You wouldn't understand,” is his weak response to the both of them, and Ikuya just scoffs. Asahi, still burning, but maybe not in anger, just stays quiet as he squares his shoulders. Makoto is already in his classroom, and Haru is alone.

“Did you forget how to do the crawl stroke too?” Haru wasn't expecting something so, well, insightful from Asahi. He looks like he's made a decision, and Ikuya just stares at him too, like the butterflyist had grown another head.

He considers it, because, really, it was sort of true. For the first time, he understands the frustration the other had had months before, and feels bad that he had just stocked it up to the other boy's idiocy at the time.

It's another minute before he simply says “yes”, but it's enough for Asahi to nod and put his hands on his hips.

“It might take you longer than me to get over it, 'cuz I'm a genius swimmer and you're not, but don't worry, you will!”

Ikuya looks between them like he can't decide who the bigger idiot is, but slumps slightly as the hurt and tension drains from him. They both head back to class and Haru follows before almost hitting Ikuya's back as he stops abruptly at the door.

“Haru, just because we aren't swimming doesn't mean we aren't team mates.” Standing straighter, and Haru thinks he may be a half-centimeter shorter than the other boy now. “Don't forget that.”

*

Natsuya is just a ferocious as his younger brother, without any of the threatening waterworks. He doesn't quite know what to say to his senpai, and Nao just smiles sadly from behind his former-captain. They should be focusing on entrance exams, but instead they're spending the precious study period to come confront Haru.

Natsuya wavers between angry, frustrated and sad, and stalks away before Haru has formed any sort of defense.

In his wake he leaves Nao-senpai, soft eyes and features as usual – smile half its usual size. One hand moves to his shoulder, squeezing softly. It's comforting, and Haru appreciates it. Green eyes, a different shade from Makoto's, search his and seem sad but accepting.

“Don't make him wait too long, Haru.”

Shocked speechless, there's only one thing he can think.

_Yokai._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone, I hope this finds you all in good health.
> 
> Apologies for the angst; believe me, it hurts me more than anything to write it.
> 
> The next two chapters are both partially written, so hopefully they should be posted soon! Thank you all for the continued support.


	15. 14

They have some sort of stupid class excursion to the sand dunes today – not like any kid from Tottori hasn't seen the dunes before, but they're a tourist draw, so maybe they're going to be learning why people seem so interested in piles of sand.  The classes are on rotation for this trip, Makoto's class starting at the whirlpools first, and then heading to the dunes after the joint lunch.  
  
He sketches the windswept landscape around them as their guide tells them about how dunes are formed.  It's so incredibly boring that he can't help his eyes drifting shut.  He hadn't really slept that well the night before; waking up from embarrassing dreams that just left him feeling sweaty and gross.  Their health class had said it was normal, but that didn't make wet dreams any less inconvenient – he never seemed to remember them anyway, so it wasn't like he even got any enjoyment from them.  Totally pointless.  At least, he thought, he hadn't popped a boner like Asahi had halfway through answering a question on the blackboard last week.  Kisumi was still laughing about it.  Even though they were already second-years, neither of them had matured at all.  
  
Ikuya wasn't in his class this year, and nor was Tomo.  He wasn't really sure how he felt about that last part, considering her confession last year, but honestly he didn't give it much thought anymore.  She was apparently dating Takaoka on the baseball team now, anyway.  
  
Dating wasn't something he even really considered much past the idle classroom gossip; so-and-so was confessed to; those two were seen at the arcade together a couple train stops away; Asahi was rejected, again; Kisumi had another girl sending him shoe locker letters.  His last girlfriend lasted two weeks.  A new record.  
  
There wasn't really any of the girls that caught his attention.  Sure, there were some filling out, as Asahi would so often mention, and yeah, Ayane looked nice with her hair done up in braids.  Sometimes the girls on the volleyball team would make him stop, short hair matted with sweat as long arms reached for the ball, but it wasn't enough for Haru to really remember any of their names.  He would sometimes sit and draw as they played, but moreso for movement practice than anything else.  Usually he'd get distracted halfway and just end up not paying enough attention, the anatomy was always a bit unbalanced - shoulders always too broad, hips not wide enough when he just drew from memory.  
  
Since having left the swimming club, things had changed.  He didn't really feel the need to join another sports team, even though Kisumi pestered him about it almost every day.  He'd taken up art instead, the quiet third floor room nice to spend the afternoon in as he waited for Makoto to finish with swimming.  Large windows bringing in warm light as afternoon sun would drift in, the smell of primer and oil paints perpetually strong in the air of the room.  And if it had a perfect view overlooking the pool, then that was just a coincidence.  
  
He liked drawing the best, but paints and sculpting tools were available too.  He had considered the calligraphy club, but writing single phrases over and over seemed pretty dull; at least with art he could let his mind drift if he wanted without getting chewed out about messing up a character.  His mother had bought him a stack of sketch books when he'd told his parents about the club switch, but he'd gone through them all pretty quickly.  Sea birds, and the ocean landscape took up at least a half-dozen.  Others were filled with the stray cats that had made the suburb their home, or basic sea creatures he had referenced from books in the library.  Majority were filled with familiar faces and figures, though.  His parents, friends, the Tachibanas, and of course, Makoto.  Half a face here, a forearm there.  The lines of his silhouette he remembers following his best friend's broad back on their way home.    
  
“Hey Haru, it's time to go back to the bus now; and uh, you may want to stop grinning goofily at your picture of a sand dune, it's creepy,”  Kisumi unhelpfully tells him.  Scowling back, he snaps his book shut and brushes off the sand from his pant legs.  Being stuck with Kisumi all day was really wearing him down.  
  
At least he could watch the beautiful swirl of the whirlpools after lunch, and hopefully, maybe, accidentally fall in for a while.

* * *

Makoto knows they won't be able to be a relay team again this year, but that doesn't mean he stops hanging out with Asahi and Ikuya. They still all converge in class one for lunch time; Ikuya still buying an extra milk to enjoy with his bento, and Kisumi stealing bites sneakily if he gets the chance from whoever he can. Haru doesn't say much still, but he's not eerily despondent like in January.

He's actually gotten used to Haru being so quiet now, even though he still doesn't know the reason; it's something they haven't talked about, but he tries his best to make sure his best friend knows that he's ready and willing to listen whenever the older boy decides to tell him what's wrong. The freestylist had never been loud or brash like some of their other friends, but his muted aura is slowly returning, if a little calmer.

He's invited him over for the night, since Haru's father is away on a business trip in Tokyo, and his Mother took the night shift at the grocery store. There's English homework to struggle over together, and the twins have been hinting that they'd like Haru to help them with their class diaries too – they had to illustrate their golden week break and Haru was 'the only one who could help them right', much to Makoto's chagrin. They weren't totally wrong about that though.

They're sharing the low folding table in his room that he uses for guests and group study; there's not much floor room, so his back is against the bed frame. Haru fits snug between the edge of the table and Makoto's desk, doesn't complain when their legs tangle together. Colored pencils are left out from when they had been helping Ren and Ran, and the other boy seems totally preoccupied with drawing measured lines on a blank page of his sketchbook – math homework long forgotten.

Makoto's socked feet are bumped up against Haru's shorts and outer thighs as they struggle to find leg room beneath the small table; every so often Haru will quirk his mouth in suppressed laughter – the only sign of his sensitiveness to the tickles. Makoto wants to see how far he can push it before his best friend frowns at him to stop; Haru laughing is few and far between, but it's one of the few things Makoto knows he could never get tired of.

Sharp exhales break the quiet as Haru tries futiley to fight against the ticklish touch, squirming against the soft movement of the fabric-covered foot. Makoto can't help his own growing smile at the scene – Haru spasming a kick to his shin as he backs into the desk drawer, brown pencil now dropped to the floor.

“Quit it.” That was the end of that, then. Even so, Haru's mouth was curled in a smile, as he tried his best to look disapproving.

“Sorry, Haru,” his own homework closed and put to the side as he straightens up from the hunch he had been in.

Haru huffs at the apology, knowing all too well that Makoto was unrepentant, really.

“How are you feeling, today?” It's a familiar question now; one that took Haru a long time to respond to at first, but he's always known why the younger boy asks it. Which is why he always answers it – at least, that's what Makoto hopes.

“I'm good,” blue eyes deep with that emotion Makoto doesn't really realise he's looking for. “Happy,” _here with you_. Haru's feet bumping against his own this time.

Warmth blooms deep in his stomach, but if it shows on his face, Haru ignores it. Instead replacing the pencil from its place on the floor.

“What were you drawing?” He's used to sitting aside his best friend as he recreates a scene in graphite or charcoal or watercolours – much more talented in art than Makoto has ever been. Afternoons on the shore steps looking to the sunset as blue waves lap quietly at the shore. Salt breeze seeping into his nose, eyes, pores, as the soothing rub of pencil against paper scores the moment.

Unexpectedly, Haru burns red, blush shooting up his neck to sit at his ears as he avoided his best friend's line of sight. Snapping the sketchbook closed, he slides it across the table before mumbling into his shoulder, “just some anatomy and portrait stuff.”

He's pushed the book to Makoto, so he probably doesn't mind him looking, but he looks to blue eyes first, just to make sure. He wonders if Haru has a watercolour to match that specific shade of blue, or if artists haven't been able to capture the deepness, richness, found in his best friend's eyes.

He can tell which page it is, as eraser scraps are still caught between the pages. Half an arm, poised with a pen between fingers is in the corner, the other, laying flat against a surface Haru hasn't drawn in. The crease of skin and form of knuckles seriously makes Makoto wonder how Haru could be so talented at everything he tries. There are half-sketched outlines of hands across the page – fingers moving into familiar shapes as Makoto recognises them as his own. But the main focus of the page is Makoto himself, a colourful portrait done with care. A slight smudge of red where his drawn twin's mouth curls, black frames accentuating the hooded look of his eyes as the picture looks to the books in front of him. Makoto knows it's him, but the picture looks older, more mature and self-assured than Makoto has ever felt.

Makoto had known Haru draws him on occasion, but the flutter of his heart rises up, unbidden. There's a weird intimacy in seeing how his best friend sees him, expresses him, and his smile finds Haru before he even thinks about it.

“This is amazing, Haru.” A shrug in reply, but pink ears betraying the quieter boy's happiness at the praise. “You make me look really good.”

“I just draw what I see.”

Makoto's heart stutters a little at that; stomach dropping as it fills with butterflies. He's acutely aware of how close Haru's foot is to his waist now – stretching out to get some feeling back into it before pins-and-needles set in. Fighting back the urge to see what kind of face, what kind of _sounds_ , Haru would make if he started massaging it in his now-free hand. Makoto isn't as talented as Haru is when it comes to most things, but he's pretty confident in physical touch. And he wants to _feel_ Haru in more than just brief passing touches – but that's not what boys are meant to do, so he keeps his hands to himself, pushing his textbooks back as he smiles sheepishly to his best friend.

He doesn't remember even half of the vocab he'd been struggling to memorize, but right now sat across from a Haru who is smiling softly as he returns to his sketching, Makoto doesn't want to know anything but this.

* * *

 

Haru has gotten better at cooking.

He knows this because he doesn't find himself crinkling his nose as his poor meals burn or end up sour whenever his mother leaves him dinner instructions on nights she's working.

He's a far cry from what his mother or Tachibana-obasan could do, but he's proud of his steady development since the sleepover last year. Rather than finding prep work boring like it had been back then, he reveled in the meditative mood the repetition of slicing vegetables or skimming broth could be. He didn't think it was necessarily better that he had something to do instead of letting his mind wander to sad and painful memories, but he didn't have the will to float in the pool like he used to. At least this way he was being productive.

On nights like this, when his parents were working and he hadn't wanted to impose on the Tachibana's, Makoto often came over anyway to keep him company. He didn't want to leave him all alone in his house, he had told him once. Fed the stray cats that he could never adopt due to his father's allergies, and set the table for two as Haru finished the meal. He wonders if tonight will be the same.

Haru knows he's been hurting his best friend; that by shutting out Makoto, he'd created a distance that had never been there before. Living up to his name, he supposed. But despite that, the taller boy was always right beside him, quietly or noisily – a part of his routine that never changed. Makoto deserved a friend so much better than Haru was – like with Rin, and Asahi, and Ikuya and everyone else he had hurt – but he was selfish and greedy and wanted him to stay, more than anyone. Hoped that the day Makoto got tired of Haru not talking to him would never come. Hoped that he could figure out a way to thank him for everything if it ever did.

The familiar double knock followed by the opening and closing of the front door announces Makoto's arrival long before he says anything himself; bringing some side-dishes along, he greets Haru in his same way – smiles and soft atmosphere helping Haru to clear away the gloomy thoughts he'd been wallowing in. Just like Makoto always did.

He sets the table and pours the bottled tea into two glasses as Haru plates up the fish he had been grilling. Rice steams as he scoops it from the cooker, and the mix of taro and greens in sour sauce sit nested between the two on the plate.

Makoto takes his first bite with gusto, and Haru can't help if he's holding his breath – his own dinner temporarily forgotten as he waits for the verdict.

“It's so good, Haru, like always,” chopsticks going to his mouth again before he continues. “Your cooking is always so delicious.”

Green eyes scrunch up in happiness as he continues to eat; Haru quietly relieved as he pokes at his own plate. There are many things Makoto understands without Haru saying anything, but there are also many things Haru wants to say to him himself. He's not great with starting conversations like Makoto is though, or opening up the raw vulnerable side of himself he keeps hidden from everyone but his best friend, but he's trying.

Haru wants to tell Makoto everything in his mind, everything he's feeling tonight, but it's hard to find the words. Hopes that his best friend will be just a little more patient as he works out what he wants to say. Hopes that Makoto will forgive him for taking so long.

And more than anything, he hopes that he'll always be able to sit and eat with Makoto like this.

* * *

 

There are bubbles floating on the surface of the water – colourful shine across them as he has his hands submerged.

Now, he thinks, is the perfect time.

It's not immediate as to why he decides this, it just feels right – his mother quietly drying dishes beside him, his father reading the evening edition of the newspaper, both twins up in their room copying homework answers from each other. Now if only he knew how to start.

It's been hours since he arrived home from school, but he's still got his uniform on; long white sleeves rolled up so the cuffs don't get wet as he washes. The same shirt had been big on him only two months ago, but now it was just right – another growth spurt shrinking his clothes and shoes faster than he could wear them in. Another self-frustration at how much he had changed in the short years of middle school; too big for his own good, not quite like the rest of the kids in his class.

Sighing a little at his reflection in the sudsy water, Makoto can feel his mother waiting for the next dish.

People say he takes after his father; an early bloomer – tall and handsome, strength built into him naturally. Light hair and a jaw that seemed to sharpen overnight. It's not that he doesn't like resembling his Dad; he just wonders if the older man ever felt out-of-place compared to his school peers growing up – or whether the embarrassment Makoto feels is purely a part of his own personality. Not to mention the other ways he was different.

Well, it wasn't like brooding on it would change anything.

“Are you alright, Makoto?” His mother's voice snapping him from his self-reflection. “You're sighing an awful lot. Do you feel sick?”

“Sorry, just thinking,” passing the next plate to her with a small smile. “About school and stuff...”

There must be something in his voice – or maybe it's just the uncanny nature of mothers – but she just pulls him into a hug. Wet spot from the small sauce dish bleeding into both of their fronts. He's taller than her now, her neck stretching a little to slot over his shoulder.

“Tell us what's wrong. We can't help you if we don't know.”

His father has stopped reading the paper, folded neatly on the dining table as he looks to his wife and oldest son – in silent support for them both, waiting.

“I actually um, I did have something I wanted to tell you, but...” voice dying as his mother pulls back to look at his face. He feels like he wants to cry – hating himself for being so weak. He bites his lip in worry.

“But?” His mother looks at him with her green eyes, so similar to his own, and he tries to swallow past the choking tightness in his throat.

“I don't know how to say it.” Head hanging a little.

His father stands from where he was seated, moving to place a hand on the shoulder his mother had just been resting her chin on. It's quiet enough that he can hear the hum of the refrigerator and the dripping of the tap; it's so unlike the normal bustle of the Tachibana home that Makoto can't help but feel uneasy.

“You don't have to tell us right now, Makoto, but you'd be surprised how much parents can help.” His father smiling in his closed-eyed way. Tone of voice just like when he reads to the twins, or helps Makoto with a particularly difficult math problem; familiar and warm.

“You shouldn't be afraid of us,” his mother's soft hand coming to hold his cheek, thumb wiping away a tear Makoto hadn't known he had shed. “We love you.”

Makoto can't seem to take a full breath. Both his parents look concerned, but let him compose himself without pushing him. Gulping hard, he can't stall any longer. Decides to just do it quickly, like ripping off a band aid.

“I um, well. I think that maybe I'm different from everyone else.”

His father now studying his face; the overhead lights reflected in his glasses, soft voice as he asks, “what do you mean, Makoto?” Makoto can't make himself look away.

“L-like I can't be the good son you want,” voice cracking as he tries to keep from panicking. “That there's something wrong with me.”

He can hear the sharp intake of breath shared between his parents. The atmosphere getting heavier as the seconds tick past. The air seems thicker, choking, and Makoto doesn't know if he's breathing as he waits for what they're going to say next.

“Makoto, you're already everything we could ever wish for,” his mother's voice sad; hand brushing back his fringe. “We're so proud of you. We always have been.”

He can't help the way his heart squeezes at her words; takes a deep breath to try and build up a little more courage – hoping to convince himself that he won't make her want to take back what she had just said. His tongue feels like it's filling his throat, but he manages to choke through his next thought.  
  
“I think I'm in love with Haru, and – and I don't know what to do.” Ashamed at what he's admitting – breathing laced in overwhelming sadness as his parents stay quiet. “I'm scared that you'll hate me, and that he'll hate me; I'm scared I'll ruin everything.” Tears causing heavy pressure at his temples; not sure whether he's crying or not.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His mother pulling him back into their hug, closer; hand now moving to stroke the top of his head – fingers running through soft brown hair. It reminds him of when he was much younger, his mother comforting him when he was upset. He can feel a large hand on his back – his father's – rubbing soothing circles.

“We're not going to hate you over anything, Makoto; but definitely not over something like that.”  
  
“You're such a sweet boy,” he can hear the tears in his mother's voice, patting his head like he was five years old again, “as long as you're happy, we don't care who you love.”

“Plus, there are plenty of worse options than Haruka to fall in love with,” his father's joke bringing a sob-sounding laugh to both Makoto and his mother.

Pulling back again so his mother can hold his face in both hands, he can see there are a few unshed tears stuck in the corners of her eyes; smile pushing them father. He returns it, shakily. His father has a hand on both of their backs now – or maybe he always did, Makoto can't tell – but they form a close circle, right in the middle of the kitchen.

“You're young, Makoto, so these things are hard,” another circle rubbed on his back. “Well, actually, I don't think they really get any easier.” He can see his parents share a small smile, knowing.

“It's your decision to tell Haru, Makoto,” his mother's voice soft but strong. “But I don't think you should worry so much if you do decide to.”

Biting his bottom lip, he can't help the nerves that sink his stomach, despite his parents' support.

“He's a good boy, and a good friend. I don't think he would hate you, no matter what happens.” Makoto smiling a little more at that. “You two care about each other a lot. You always have.”

Pulling her son down a little so she can reach, she plants a kiss right at the crown of his head – a familiar show of love.  
  
“And if things do get bad, just remember that we'll always be here for you.” His father drawing them close again into a hug – both parents warm as they surround him. The tap drips quietly in the stillness, and his hands are clammy with the soap he hadn't managed to dry off in the midst of his confession. He slots perfectly between his parents – taller than his mother, but not quite reaching his father's height – head still ducked against tears, although not necessarily sad ones anymore. A loud thump from upstairs finally breaking them apart.

“Well, I should go check that your brother and sister haven't killed each other up there,” his father says with a defeated sigh and a half-smile – giving Makoto one last hair ruffle before leaving.

“And you should go get ready for bed,” his mother's signature smile back in place but eyes still a little glassy, “but I've got an extra slice of cake from the neighbourhood meeting you can have first.” Pulling one of the now-dry dishes from the strainer out in preparation for the sweet. “Don't let the twins see.”

And for the first time in a while, Makoto felt like it _would_ all work out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I hope you've all been well.
> 
> I know I said I would update soon after my last chapter, but yet again it has taken me much longer than expected... Sorry, yet again.
> 
> As for actual chapter notes, only a few this time:
> 
> Tottori is well-known for it's famous sand dunes, and are apparently a huge tourist draw. The prefecture also has boat tours of the (also famous) whirlpools.
> 
> The kanji used in Haruka's name is written as distance, ergo the 'living up to his name' line.
> 
> Thanks again everyone for reading, and I hope you look forward to the next chapter.


	16. 15

Makoto starts acting weird on a Tuesday.

Their scheduled athletics class is next period, so all the guys go to 3-4's classroom to change, all the girls from both classes heading back to 3-7. Phys Ed is the only other class aside from electives they share this year, so Haru is always reminded by his best friend to pack his gym gear.

As expected, the class for the boys is soccer again – the same as last week – and Haru is really not looking forward to his prospects of running under the sun, guys on his team calling for him to pass.

Pulling off his button-down shirt, it takes a minute to rummage around his bag and find his replacement – just enough time to notice one of the other third-years eyeing Makoto jealously.

“You're so muscular Tachibana, no fair. Wish puberty was as kind to me as it was to you.”

“It's not that fun; I grow out of things a lot,” soft smile on the brunet's face as he unpacks his sports shoes. “Plus, growing pains hurt.”

“You musta drunk a lot of milk to get that tall, huh?” Hand going up to measure the difference between them. A sigh of defeat from the other boy as he stretched higher to reach the top of Makoto's head.

“I thought that was just for girls and y'know, their boobs.” One of Makoto's classmates interjecting now – a couple hoots of amusement in response. Haru doesn't understand the joke, or well, the point of it.

“Well, now we know why you haven't grown at all since first year, Satou!” The laughter of the other boys filling the class as they heckled their friend. Some of the aforementioned girls pass by the classroom in a chatter, their own jokes lost on their way past. The other boys fall silent almost immediately, not sure whether their female classmates had overheard them. The last of the girls head down the hall, and Haru recognises Aki's light laughter disappearing with the rest of the noise.

It's a prolonged minute before one of the boys from before breaks the silence.

“Speaking of boobs though, don't you think Chizu's have gotten bigger?” Haru just rolling his eyes at the change in subject – pulling his head through the neck of his shirt, swishing his hair back into place.

“I dunno. They're still not as big as Yamato's – she's amazing.”

“Yeah, I mean, if you only like her body. She's not really my type; too loud.” There are a couple jeers at that; evidently Yamamoto is quite popular amongst the third-year boys.

“I dunno if you should have a type, man. No girl's gonna be interested in you as it is with that face.”

“Don't act like you're so popular; didn't you get rejected by that underclassman?”

More laughter as the group finish pulling on their sports uniforms, dumping their other clothing by their bags.

“What about you, Tachibana? I bet girls ask you out all the time – who's your favourite?” Haru can see his best friend simultaneously go pale and blush next to him, eyes darting to the floor.

“N-no, I. I don't really get any confessions.”

“That's a lie. I've seen you getting envelopes in your shoe locker before.” Haru had to agree. It wasn't so rare for Makoto to get a sweet-smelling letter as he left the school – a girl from their class, or another, or from the year below. Makoto had rejected them all so far, though. Haru couldn't blame him; they didn't seem particularly interesting or dateable. Didn't really seem like they knew Makoto beyond _that nice guy in class 3-7, attractive and kind_.

“I don't really, um... I just regard those girls as friends; I'm not dating anyone.” Eyes looking to Haru in a silent plea to help. Just shrugging in response – it's not like he can answer questions directed at Makoto for him.

“What a waste. If I was half as popular as you, I'd definitely get myself a cute girlfriend,” one of the other boys adds. Haru faintly remembers him as being part of the basketball team, from the few times they've gone to see Kisumi's games.

“I don't really think of them in that way,” red blush creeping up his neck a little higher to rest on the top of his ears. Haru can tell Makoto's being sincere. “I want to date someone I like, not just because I think I need a girlfriend.”

“And this is why Tachibana's more popular than you, Suzuki!” More laughter as they head to the soccer fields.

Somehow, Makoto changed after that.

 

*

 

Their biology books are open to the chapter on the human heart – homework spread across the small table they often use when they study at his place.

Makoto is leaning over his work, trying to balance between reading and keeping his new glasses from sliding down his nose. The brunet had just gotten his prescription changed recently and wasn't quite used to his new frames. Humming in thought as he bit his lower lip, Haru couldn't help huffing in admonishment of Makoto's bad habit – his best friend sometimes breaking the skin when he wasn't paying attention.

“You shouldn't do that; you'll make yourself bleed again.”

“Sorry Haru-chan, I guess it's become a bad habit.” Straightening up a little as he smiles to Haru. Closed eyes obstructed by the new black frames Makoto's wearing.

“Not the only one you have,” frowning at the childhood nickname.

“Sorry, sorry,” quirking his mouth a little, lopsided, “I was distracted. Don't you think it's weird that a real heart looks like this?” Finger pointing to the diagram in their textbook.

“Well, they're not going to look like the ones on love letters, are they?”

“W-well, I guess that's true.” Green eyes drop down to the table again, but it doesn't seem like Makoto is all that occupied with the homework now. His pencil is moving against the worksheet, but he's not writing anything. He's biting his lip again, and Haru frowns, about to admonish him again, when Makoto unknowingly cuts him off.

“Do you get many love letters, Haru?”

It's such an unusual question that Haru can't help but be shocked. Blue eyes widening as he sees his best friend blushing. He had known that Makoto was acting weird, but maybe now Haru could actually figure out _why_.

“No, none at all.” The closest he comes to seeing one are the semi-regular occurrences that Makoto gets them. He didn't get a letter with Tomo's confession either.

“R-really?” Makoto starting a little to look at Haru straight on. He can tell his best friend is confused by that, tiny wrinkle in his brow.

“Why?”

“I just wondered,”

Huffing in annoyance, blue eyes roll. “You've been acting weird all week – what's wrong?”

“N-nothing.”

“Wow, convincing,” deadpanning.

Makoto has started biting his bottom lip again, and it looks like he's thinking something over. Leaning a little to stretch his back out whilst he waits for his younger friend to reply, Haru can hear the strays mewling outside, hungry for scraps. He almost startles a little when his friend starts talking again, breaking the evening quiet.

“I've just been thinking about what the other guys at school were saying, about me not wanting a girlfriend.”

Raising an eyebrow, Haru can't really believe that _that_ has been the cause of his friend's behaviour. It's not like Makoto had ever worried about that sort of thing before.

“Don't worry about them; who cares.” Shrugging a little, not sure why that deserves so much attention.

“No, Haru, I don't think you understand,” Makoto flicking a stray bit of his eraser across the table. The air feels heavier in the room, somehow, and Haru is filled with the urge to open a window. “I don't want to date girls... at all.” Taking a big breath, as if he'd finally made a decision. Haru can't help wanting to mimic him, just from the tension. “I'm, uh,” a humourless laugh. “I'm gay, I think.”

“Oh.”

Just like that, the tension he's feeling snaps – Haru feels stupid for worrying so much. He feels a little deflated from the quick loss of apprehension, and it takes him a moment to realise that Makoto isn't done.

“Sorry, that's probably not something you want to think about.” He's smiling, but in that self-deprecating way that Haru hates seeing. “I've known for a while, but I didn't want to make things weird.” Green eyes are trained to his hands and avoiding Haru as much as he can despite the little distance between them.

Sighing, Haru just shakes his head – knowing that Makoto is probably overthinking things again. He knew his best friend could be stupid sometimes, but he really was an idiot.

“Makoto.” Haru can see the muscles in Makoto's neck move as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, before the younger boy gives him an apprehensive look.

“Who else knows?”

“Huh?” Blinking once, twice, behind his glasses.

“Who else knows?” repeating himself.

“Uh, my parents, that's it.” Brunet frowning a little more; possibly confused at the lack of a larger reaction. “You're the only other person I've ever told.”

Haru holds eye-contact steadily, trying to alleviate some of the things he can see ticking over in Makoto's head; small smile hopefully conveying the things Haru's never been good at.

“Makoto,” hand crossing the cool wood of the table to sit atop his best friend's. “You don't have to be worried so much about something like that.”

“But,” and he can see his best friend's small sigh of relief; tiny smile that reflects more in his green eyes than on his face, “thanks for trusting me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Makoto doesn't know why he assumed they would all go to the same high school, but he did. He shouldn't have, after both Rin and Nagisa had left Iwatobi, but he hadn't ever even considered going anywhere else than Iwatobi High School – it was only five train stops away, and had a fairly high level of college acceptance. Plus, as the local public high school, a majority of kids from their area tended to go there; most parents unable to afford the private girls' or boys' schools in the surrounding towns.

They're at Asahi's house trying to finish a group project when Ikuya he tells them about how he was trying to get into Nishi-ha High, the same school Natsuya was attending, along with Nao. It's an all-boys school an hour from the city center, but has a really good reputation within the prefecture. Sato, he told them, was also planning to get into her mother's high school in Iwami; that was his second choice, he mentioned quietly.

Kisumi had mentioned his school of preference a couple times during lunch – one that had recently turned co-ed in an attempt to boost enrollment, but where girls still outnumbered boys 2-to-1. It was both a shock, yet not, to hear that Asahi was wanting to go there too; desperate as he was to get a girlfriend. It was a shock to hear his mother worked there as a teacher though – Haru asking why he was such an idiot in that case.

Makoto feels dumb for not really giving his high school much thought, but it was pretty much expected for he and Haru to attend Iwatobi. They had gone to Iwatobi schools their entire lives so far, why change now? From what he can tell from the impassive look on Haru's face, it seems he doesn't care much either way, and Makoto doesn't know if that's sad or not.

They're going to go their separate ways at the end of the year, and Makoto doesn't really want to lose his friends again. He takes the opportunity to tell them so, and Asahi can't help laughing in an embarrassed way; Ikuya trying to smother his blush by pretending to be completely focused on the pattern of his sleep shorts.

They promise to mail each other often. Makoto is happy to have this tenuous link to his old teammates; much more than he has of Rin, and Nagisa had stopped messaging when he had started middle school two towns over. They have 7 weeks til graduation, but it still doesn't seem real.

Things are changing again, but Haru still walks to and from school with him every day; they both visit the shrine up the stone steps before a test, and babysit the twins if Makoto's parents have to go to the neighbourhood meeting each month. Haru's father has been going between Tokyo and Iwatobi more and more often, and Makoto still comes over to join Haru for meals three times a week when his Mother has the nightshift at the supermarket. Their routines intertwine, as always, and he wonders if it will be the same this time next year.

Someone has moved the conversation onto which film they should watch, but Makoto can still feel the quiet unease undercurrent in the room. Haru looking at him from the corner of his eye in muted curiosity, blue eyes breathtaking as Makoto tries not to stare at his best friend.

Graduation is coming quickly, but none of them seem ready.

 

*

 

The graduation ceremony is much longer than he'd hoped – standing for so long has him zoning out from whatever the principal is saying, and he has to suppress a yawn or two when they're standing in straight lines waiting to receive their certificates.

After it's all done; after the photos, and hugs, and well-wishes for the future, Makoto finds himself following Haru silently as he heads to the artroom he had spent his afternoons for the last two years. It smells like the familiar oil paints and clay he's grown accustomed to when hanging out here; any days that the swimming club had no practice – like in the winter months – he had stayed with Haru as the shorter boy spent the time drawing in a steadily growing stack of sketchbooks.

It's barely past lunchtime, but the school is empty in this wing. Haru starts retrieving the half-dozen recent sketchbooks he'd left here before the exam break, and Makoto recognises more than a few of them.

Helping pack the books away into an empty bag, Makoto almost jumps in fright when Haru starts talking unexpectedly.

“My parents are moving to Tokyo.”

Time seems to stop, and Makoto is surprised his neck doesn't snap with how quickly he turns to look at his friend. Haru had told him that his father had recently been promoted, largely in part to his work during his big city trips, but he hadn't really thought about it beyond that. Both the Nanase's had been at the graduation ceremony this afternoon.

“A-are you leaving, Haru?” Gulping dryly, his stomach is tying itself in knots. He hadn't even told his best friend how he felt – about the feelings of love that had been growing fiercely inside of him for the past several months – didn't know if he was brave enough to confess yet; but didn't want to lose Haru without telling him. Words don't seem to work for him right now, and so he just blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “Will you be going to a school in Tokyo?”

Haru shakes his head, and Makoto releases a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He wasn't sure how he would have coped without the silent swimmer by his side, and the rising panic in his chest is slowing down.

“Mom has decided to join Dad in the city, because she doesn't think he'll survive without her,” half a smirk just enough that Makoto can't tell how hurt his best friend is. “They're keeping the house here, so I told them I'm staying. I'm old enough to be on my own now.”

“Won't you miss them though, Haru?”

“I'd miss Iwatobi more,” blue eyes moving to the sweeping view out the window – fields lay ahead of them, blending with the suburban homes and small stores of inland Iwatobi. You can't see the ocean from here, but the bay is just beyond the farthest houses in their sight. “I can't leave Grandma here all alone.”

Makoto kind of understands what he means; that house is as much a part of Grandma Nanase as the woman herself, and even considering someone else living in the house up the stairs is enough to make Makoto feel queasy. Whatever the reason, Makoto is relieved beyond belief, and he can't stop the smile growing as Haru keeps quiet – just assuming that the backstroke swimmer will understand.

Haru trusts him, and Makoto will do anything to be worthy of that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter just in time for Makoto's birthday (well, technically... it's still the 17th somewhere, right?), and quite a Makoto-centric one, appropriately. The theme this chapter is trust.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, everyone!! Now, onwards to high school life!!


	17. 16

It's the first time since elementary school that they've been in the same class.

Haru spends the first day of classes correcting teachers on which honorific to use, and even though over half the class are people he somewhat recognises from middle school, he doesn't actually talk to anyone outside of Makoto.  He's put on cleaning duty twice a month with a handful of people whose faces he forgets instantly.

Classes aren't much harder, clubs are not compulsory and he doesn't have anyone overtly interested in befriending him like with the middle school guys, so his days tend to bleed into each other.

Wake up.

Soak.

Walk to school with Makoto.

School.

Walk home with Makoto.

Dinner.

Homework.

Bathe.

Sleep.

His parents have fully transitioned to Tokyo now; they have a new apartment in Shimbashi close to his father's new offices, and his mother has restarted her career as a government worker – it lets her get home before his dad does, and she calls Haru twice a week to check he's coping.  He is.  It's not like back in middle school when he was too proud to admit he didn't know what to do.

He goes shopping for groceries on Saturday with Makoto, the twins and Tachibana-obasan.  Sundays, they spend time around town or at home, depending on the weather; there's a new café open on the main road that serve chocolate sundaes that Makoto has fallen in love with.  Sometimes they meet up with Ikuya or Asahi in town too; both keeping in contact through Makoto.  Kisumi has been too busy though.

Haru can't help but feel relieved, honestly.

It's not an exciting life, but he's not an exciting guy.  He doesn't need much to be happy, and he has all he needs.  There are days he's drawn to the ocean – staring out to the horizon before he realises what he's been doing – but the pull isn't enough for him to dive into the dark waters of the familiar beach.  Makoto doesn't say anything, but he's worried, he can tell.  There are some times that the silences seem to be hanging from a question that's never asked; green eyes following his own as they watch the sky and sea blend off in the distance.  Makoto never stops him, though.

Moments like that are why he's sure that he has the best friend anyone could.  _Soulmate_ often drifts in his mind whenever he considers it – half-memories of his grandmother telling them stories of the stars and torii gates.  Two people in sync, each understanding what the other needs.

It sounds about right.

Quiet nights with the salt-laden breeze.  Soft meowing of the local cats around his house, being spoilt by Makoto.  Warm days wandering around the main streets as they pass the time.

It's an unexciting life encompassing the two of them, and Haru is comfortable.

 

* * *

 

Makoto is worried.

He doubts himself every single day.  Doubts that he's handling things in the right way. 

High school is fine, and the new people he's met are nice and friendly.  Their homeroom teacher is the mild-mannered history teacher that always gives them hints for the test questions.  Makoto's growth spurts have seemed to _finally_ slow down.  He got full marks on his most recent Japanese test.  Their middle school friends mail him a lot, and they've met up with most everyone on weekends to commiserate over being high schoolers.  No one has a girlfriend yet.  Ran has a boy she calls her 'bestest boyfriend' she spends her afternoons with.  Ren has discovered the wonders of the arcade near the shore.  Everyone he knows is healthy.  Everyone in his family is happy.

Unless you count Haru.

(Which he does).

Haru keeps himself in the bath every morning for at least an hour.  He keeps his interaction with the rest of the class to the bare minimum.  His life consists of nothing else but their usual routine, and Makoto worries that he's getting worse now that he doesn't have Asahi and Kisumi to draw him out of his own head.  Iwatobi Swim Club is no longer around after student enrolment dropped far enough that it couldn't make any profit; the hollowed shell of the building a sad reminder of their own distancing from the club.  He doesn't swim at all; just soaking in the tub or watches the waves of the bay.  He's started jumping into fountains too.  Many of their classmates think he's standoffish and weird; ask Makoto why he spends so much time with the quiet teen – nodding in unhidden sympathy whenever he explains that they're neighbours, childhood friends, best friends, always been together.  None of them know how smart and strong Haru is.  How great a friend he is.  That this current quiet version of his friend isn't everything he is.  That he has passion and generosity and care all bubbling beneath the surface of an impassive face.  None of them have seen the Haru Makoto knows.  None of them have seen him swim.

It breaks his heart, really.  But he's made the decision to support Haru and wait, so he will.

Dinner at Haru's is always subdued, especially now that both Nanase parents are gone.  Makoto never helps with the actual cooking, aside from setting and filling the rice cooker, but he feeds the strays outside with fish scraps unfailingly.

Nanase-obaasan's spot on the family alter is clean, the smell of burning incense imbued into the wood as she sits beside her husband.  Makoto pays his respects as he waits for the meal to be ready, and sends a silent wish to the kind older woman to look after her grandson.  He isn't sure he can do it all himself.

His best friend is a great cook, even if his favoured meals tend to be rather plain.  Fish and rice and a handful of side dishes sit in their places, and he can see Haru already pouring their favourite brand of tea.  Haru doesn't say anything when they eat, but blue eyes flicker in shadowed happiness.  Looking to Makoto, asking how the food is without words.  Makoto makes sure to eat it all, and seconds, always hungry.  It's a subdued version of their past relationship, but it's still comfortable, familiar.  Common for the two of them over the past year.

They share sliced melon as they enjoy the evening breeze, sat on the veranda as local radio plays quietly in the background.  Haru's cool fingers brushing against his own as he readjusts how he's leaning.  The smallest strays tumble over each other as they paw around Haru's backyard, the flowering azalea bushes sweet smelling as their blue flowers are jostled by the kittens. 

These are the moments that Makoto remembers fondly.  The ones where he doesn't feel like Haru might slip through his fingers, like his beloved water, if he takes his eyes off him.  Where he doesn't feel like a failure of a best friend for not knowing what to do; because Haru is here with him.  The older boy chose to open his home, himself, to Makoto despite the quiet strangulation of his own happiness.  Haru chose Iwatobi.  Haru chose Makoto.

Curled up into a ball, reminiscent of a cat himself, blue eyes slip shut and Haru's breathing evens out as the night goes on.  Haru has never been able to stay up much later than 10pm, so Makoto just takes the opportunity to watch the bright moon.  Hesitant fingers brushing gently through the soft hair of his best friend.  A quiet murmuring as he curls a little tighter into sleep.

It's been a long time since he's seen Haru smile.

He misses it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone.
> 
> Once again it has taken me much longer than expected to update; please forgive me. With this chapter we start high school with the boys!
> 
> See you all soon with the next chapter ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	18. 17

For the first time in years, he feels like he’s floating.  
  
Running into Rin the night of their swim club break-in had changed something deep inside of himself. The alluring draw of the pool less of a siren's call threatening to drag him to the depths, and more so a beckoning from an old friend. The cool touch of his bathwater not enough anymore – the quiet whispers of the ocean promising things he hadn't realised he'd missed.  
  
He wasn't the bright-smiled kid of their childhood anymore; but the confidence he emits, the sharpness of his whole spirit, coloured crimson like his hair, had him smiling, despite their rocky reunion. It was a relief, a huge relief, that he hadn’t stopped swimming like he had said. That Rin still swam with goals and dreams. If starting a swimming club at Iwatobi, or losing a freestyle race was enough to keep the other boy swimming, Haru would do it. Happy to reunite with the water without the heavy anchor of guilt weighing him down.  
  
They needed one more member, but that was probably OK. With Makoto and Nagisa actively searching, they were likely to find someone to join. They were charismatic and likeable - the sort of people who others were drawn to. Haru was trying to ask people in the best way he knew, but he lacked the friendly openness of the other two swimmers.  
  
Cool water envelopes him as he dunks beneath the surface - watching the morning sunshine filtered through window illuminating the room, stream of bubbles dancing around the ends of his hair as he slowly exhales. Makoto will be coming to fetch him soon, but until then he’s free to reflect and drift within the confines of his bathtub. Soon, once they fix the school’s pool facilities, he’ll be able to do the same there instead. The ocean still sings to him, but there are still enough dragging worries to keep him from embracing the call. Enough things left on the shore stopping him from diving straight in.  
  
The sliding door opens and closes quietly, but it signals the moment to rejoin the world. Shaking his head, droplets scatter in freedom, rejoining the main body of the bath however they can.  
  
Familiar hand outreached, a familiar greeting, he takes it without question.  
  


* * *

  
Kou keeps fidgeting the end of her ponytail between two fingers as she jots down a list, adjusting and readjusting their training programs now that they’re working towards competing this upcoming summer. The red ends keep distracting him from his own papers he’s going through as the team’s captain - irritating at the edge of his vision as he’s squinting. He should switch to his glasses, considering he’ll be heading to the pool after this anyway, but the thought of having them out in any proximity to Nagisa is a little unnerving. Nagisa hasn’t broken Rei’s yet, but there have been a couple close calls he’d prefer not risking. Sighing after another flash of crimson in his peripheral, he just goes back to completing the safety forms for the group - applying for afterschool access to the office to return the pool’s key. It’s merely an act of good faith for the student council and school faculty at this point, considering that the gates don’t properly lock at this point anyway. Their meagre budget had already been spent on restoring the pool and change area itself; there wasn’t anything left to properly fix the fence outside of a new coat of paint.  
  
If you had told Makoto two months ago that he’d be starting his second year of high school as the captain of a swimming team, he would never have believed you. The fact that Haru was actively participating in competitive swimming for the first time in years was enough to grow the tiny seed of hope he’d buried deep in his heart. Meeting Rin again after so many years, watching Haru race him; it was more than he had hoped for in a long time. The faraway look in Haru’s gaze was slowly receding too - his best friend finally coming back to himself after years adrift within his own mind.  
  
Makoto wasn’t the one that had helped him to that point, but that was OK. The rush of happiness soothed the sting, mostly. Rin hadn’t been there for the months of silence and sadness - hadn’t seen Haru frayed at the seams like he had - but it didn’t mean he wasn’t what his best friend needed. Makoto had never been the one to push Haru, anyway. That had always been Rin; even if the Samezuka swimmer didn’t know that, didn’t talk to them.  
  
Another huff, before giving up on the stupid paperwork; hand moving to rub at his eyes. Kou finally dropping the hair she had pinched between her fingers, raising an eyebrow at him in curiosity. All he can muster is a wan smile, hopefully enough to prevent questions, before stretching his back out of his sitting position and moving to stand up.  
  
“I’m going to join the others to warm up. Let me know once you’ve finished the programs; I think everyone’s excited to get started.” She just smiles and nods, letting him go.  
  
Things had changed; they had all grown up in the time apart.  
Whether this would bring them back together, that still had to be seen.  
  


* * *

  
_There's choking._  
  
_Dark waves smothering the small spots of light he can see on the horizon. A yell of someone’s name, stolen on the wind. Him, sleeping, oblivious to the smashing waves on the shore._  
  
_Rain, rain, rain._  
  
_He’s crying against the sand. No sounds, despite there being two people on the beach._  
_A summer storm. Tents. The wind throwing the familiar seas into walls around him._  
  
_Sitting amongst the cliffside, away from the worst of the storm. Makoto, sitting, mouth moving to speak, but only water spilling from between his lips._  
  
_Eyes dark. Not a hint of colour in the world against the black of the night. A procession along the foreshore, flowers and incense and goldfish. Soft smiles and sad eyes and so so so much emptiness._  
  
_Burning in his mind, tears running freely like the rain above. He’s filled with the salt water of the ocean, overflowing into the world. His best friend, sand and sun, drowning in the danger and slipping from his reach. Diving down, down, down. Legs too heavy, reach too short. Bubbles escaping to the surface as the last of his breath is gone._  
  
_Shaking the prone body, completely still on the sand. Nothing. Nothing._  
  
_Cold, cold, cold._  
  
Haru wakes from the nightmare shaking. The phantom panic still tingles in his fingertips, eyes wide and sight adjusting in the darkness of the tent. His borrowed sleeping bag constricting and oppressive; thin tee soaked in sweat. His chest is aching, and his throat hurts, a heavy lump as he tries to swallow. He can’t tell if he’s just hearing the waves outside, or if his blood is just rushing that loudly in his ears. Sitting up, frantic in the dark. Looking for the familiar profile of Makoto’s body bundled in his own sleeping bag. He’s sleeping soundly, barely an arm’s length away, soft exhales enough to get Haru breathing again. Moving a hand to stifle his sob, he curls into his knees in relief; tears dripping into the soft fabric of his sleep pants. It’s not a prolonged cry - barely a handful of seconds before he stops - but it releases the pressure. Free hand tentatively reaching for the broad plain of Makoto’s chest; welcoming warmth breaking through the last of his nightmare. The barest brush of fingers, moving slowly enough to press his palm down - trying to feel out the beating of Makoto’s heart.  
  
“Haru?” Quiet enough he thinks he’s imagined it, but a large hand fumbles in the dark to cover his own. Makoto’s eyes blinking halfway to wakefulness, squinting in the dark. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing.” Voice cracking from disuse and sleep and tears; Makoto frowning at the sound. Swallowing to clear his throat, he tries again. “Sorry I woke you.”  
  
“S’OK,” speech slurring under the weight of sleep. Larger hand squeezing his own, the other moving to his shoulder as he shifts to sit up too. Green eyes squinting against the darkness of the tent and his bad eyesight. It’s such a relief to see him moving, talking, _living_.  
  
“You should rest.” Relaxing into the warm touch of his best friend’s hand, the tight grip around his heart slowly unravelling.  
  
“You’re upset,” he counters. It’s probably too dark to see the tear tracks he hadn’t managed to wipe away, even if Makoto didn’t need glasses, but his best friend can always seem to tell. Voice dropping lower as the hand on his shoulder shifts a little to squeeze his upper arm. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
He spends all of half a second considering not saying anything. It wouldn’t be the first time Haru’s hoarded his problems within himself, keeping others at a distance; but it’s selfish to think that wouldn’t hurt his best friend by doing so. He’s done so much avoiding in the past when it came to Makoto, that he can’t stand to think of this moment being filed away as another sad smile. The backstroker letting him run away again. He’d done the same with the Rin incident, and only now was that starting to be resolved. Makoto didn’t deserve another 3 years of silence, not after the day before. Not after everything.  
  
Makoto had been so brave. So adamant, on that beach - as he dove in for Rei, as they sat side by side. Waiting patiently outside a locked bathroom as Haru contemplated never surfacing from his bath, talking to him, even knowing he wouldn’t get a response. He had always had more courage than Haru.  
  
_“It’s meaningless without you.”_  
  
Those words are familiar. Forgotten memories of slides and daisies in the summer afternoon. An offer from a shy young Makoto on joining the swim club.  
  
Waves, crashing into each other, freezing him cold, even as they sit outside of the water’s reach.  
  
_“It’s meaningless without you.”_  
  
“What if I hadn’t woken up?” It’s a confusing non-sequitur, but the silence that follows is enough. Enough that Haru knows that Makoto knows. His head is pounding again; thickness in his throat. “What if I kept sleeping?”  
  
“You didn’t, you woke up. You heard me, Haru.” Drawn into a warm hug, his sweaty shirt clinging to his skin as strong arms hold him close. Soft hair tickling his neck as Makoto moves his face against his shoulder. “And I’m so, so sorry,” hot tears dripping against his skin.  
  
Gasping at how much that hurt, how close it had been to the stinging rawness of his nightmare, he clings as hard as he can to the solid frame of his best friend. The wind against the sand outside blocks out the outside world; even the muted snores of Nagisa in the tent next to them are lost to the night.  
  
“It hurts,” spilling, bursting, overflowing. Hug tightening just a fraction. “And I’m angry.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
Head ducking down to mirror his best friend; nose nudging the other’s neck as he swallows down another half-sob. “But I’m… so glad. Thankful. That I woke up. That I wasn’t too late.”  
  
“Haru...”  
  
“Please don’t -” words so fragile, such a part of himself, that he feels like he’s going to shatter under the pressure of the moment. “Please don’t do that again. Don’t leave me.”  
  
There are no tears left between them, but they don’t relinquish the embrace. The steady heartbeat he can feel, mirroring his own, soothing. He doesn’t remember moving to lie down again, but bundled in each other’s arms, he feels more at ease to fall back asleep. Makoto is here, with him, in this moment, and it hits hard at how often he took that for granted. How close it had come to him losing these moments forever.  
  
He wouldn’t let him go ever again.  
  


* * *

  
The three of them are sitting around Haru’s living room table; Rin helping them with their English vocab - exams are coming up before winter break starts, and Makoto can say with certainty his grades could definitely use the boost from his friend’s fluency. Four years in Australia has him understanding the tricky foreign language and spellings much more intimately than he and Haru can muddle through.  
  
Haru’s groaning, face down on the table as Rin explains the difference between _through_ and _though_. Makoto’s still stuck on why the word _uphold_ doesn’t have the ‘f’ sound that so many other ‘ph’ words do - compound words sound easy in theory, but their English teacher had drilled the ph = f thing so hard, even he couldn’t forget it.  
  
“When will I ever need to know this?” Haru grumbles, muffled by the workbook he’s pressed his cheek to.  
  
“Aside from your test next week? English is helpful most places if you ever leave Japan.” Smacking the back of Haru’s head lightly with a rolled piece of paper they had abandoned earlier. Blue scribbles covering the page wherever their friend had fixed their spelling.  
  
Blue eyes roll at that, pushing himself up before he can receive another smack. “Not all of us are so willing to just up and leave for another country.” There’s not any ill intent behind the statement, but the room settles into an uncomfortable tenseness anyway.  
  
He doesn’t know what to do, so just holds his breath as he waits to see whether the situation will ignite and flare up, or fizzle out. Both Haru and Rin are stubborn and headstrong; too emotional to know how to deal with themselves, usually, bickering just as often as joking.  
  
Rin is frowning, grimacing in the way that Makoto’s has come to learn means he’s hurt, “I’m not apologising for going to Sydney.”  
  
“I never said you should.”  
  
“Guys, please -” he tries to interject, but it’s already too late.  
  
“Then don’t guilt me about not spending my whole life in this town.” Hand slamming down, pencils rolling in the jostle.  
  
“Who’s guilting you?”  
  
“You are,” yelling back to match. “Just because I wanted to do more than just die the same place I was born like everyone else here.”  
  
“What’s so wrong about dying here?” Voice an octave higher than before. “Iwatobi is home.”  
  
He can tell Haru’s reacting to the nerve Rin’s hit, not thinking, but they’ve all known people who’ve died here; all lost people to time and disaster. People who had never left Tottori, let alone Japan. Who had only known the shores of Iwatobi bay.  
  
Rin looks like he’s been slapped, eyes wide as the silence stretches. Looks like he’s about to cry. Haru looks just as stricken. Biting his lip, frowning, and standing to head upstairs. Makoto considers following but decides it’s best to let him calm down on his own. The afternoon has settled into what could qualify as evening, the small room filled with the low buzz of Haru’s space heater combatting the cold.  
  
Rin’s sat, crumpled on the tatami, hair hanging enough to hide his face. Sharp teeth worry at his lip, and his hand clenches into a fist before he spits, “Fuck,” fist slamming to punch down at the floor in frustration. “I keep fucking up.”  
  
“That wasn’t you fault,” hand reaching across the space between them - touching softly, like he did with the most skittish of the strays he and Haru fed. “You know that. He knows it too.”  
  
“I just don’t know how to react when he says things like that.” Uncurling from himself, he stretches so he’s looking to the ceiling now - long hair swinging to fall the other direction now. “It’s like he’s trying to piss me off.”  
  
Sighing, he tries to think through everything properly before responding. Things were probably never going to be like they had been, but honestly, Makoto didn’t mind. They were all working through it, and they’d probably be closer friends after all was said and done.  
  
“He’s not trying to, Rin.” Watching red eyes look at him somewhat disbelieving. Looking up the stairs to where he knew Haru was hidden away in his bedroom before continuing. “He was hurt for a long time; he thought he was responsible for you quitting swimming for years - I don’t think he gave up that guilt until the relay.”  
  
“What?” Rin sounds even more hurt at that.  
  
“He wasn’t really the same after your race at the swim club, back in middle school.” Watching his hands lace and de-lace in nervousness distraction. “I didn’t - He didn’t tell me why; just kept himself in the bath and stopped swimming. I’m pretty sure he was depressed.” It still hurts. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he does, because Rin should know. “He cares about you that much, Rin.”  
  
“Shit.”  
  
“Mmn,” is all he can reply with. Smiling sadly to himself as the memories of the last year, several years, float up unbidden.  
  
“I didn’t know.”  
  
“Of course not, and that’s not your fault. I was here the whole time, and I didn’t know why until Rei asked him why swimming with you meant so much to him.” A half smile, he felt weary under the weight of the conversation, “Rei, he - he reminds me a lot of you, actually. He gets straight to the point without worrying. I’m very envious of that.”  
  
“You’re a better friend though; you know how to look after people. Comfort them. I can’t do that.” Eyes narrowing like he won’t hear any argument about it, cutting off Makoto before he can protest. “I treated you and Nagisa like shit. I still haven’t properly apologised for that.”  
  
“Rin, you -”  
  
“No, let me finish,” hand raised to stop him. “Most guys aren’t like you Makoto, you’re a really good person. The best kind of friend. We’re all lucky to have you.” It’s such kind words, Makoto feels the need to protest the other teen; only the determined look in his eye keeps him quiet. “Especially Haru, and I’m sure he knows that.”  
  
He hoped Rin was right; if only because then it would match how happy, how lucky he felt every day with Haru in his life. More than any romantic feeling, more than the quiet depression of their last years, they were complimentary. Understood each other in ways even they couldn’t understand.  
  
He blinked a little before realising that he’d gotten caught up in his own thoughts whilst Rin was still speaking.  
  
“- Most would leave him behind; get a girlfriend, join clubs, go out and have fun with friends. You’re so much better than all of them, Makoto.” Well, now Rin was giving him too much credit.  
  
“That’s not - I couldn’t leave him alone. He’s too important to me.” Half-chuckling at maybe admitting that that makes him odd. Rin nods. “Plus, I’m not really the type to find a girlfriend, you know? It’s always just been him and me.”  
  
“Oh,” mouth opening a little slack-jawed, eyes wide. There’s understanding there; acknowledgement to something Makoto hadn’t realised he’d admitted, in his attitude more so than his words. “Does he know that, about you?”  
  
It’s somewhat nerve wracking talking about himself like this with someone outside of his family and Haru. Maybe it was obvious? Maybe it was something people could just _tell_. That made him uneasy to consider - thinking his classmates, teachers, might know and judge him secretly. At least with Rin, he didn’t look upset or grossed out. It was probably OK.  
  
“Yeah, he knows; I came out back in - “  
  
“No,” Rin interrupting him before he can continue, stomach swooping at the interruption - mind jumping to the worst possible conclusion before the other teen continues. “I mean, have you told him that you love him?”  
  
It hits like a wave, hard. Stunning him silent as his mind continues to race - trying to figure out what to say. How to answer.  
  
“No. No, I.” Head shaking almost as much as his hands. He may be panicking, trying to explain himself, but not denying it. “I mean, for a long time, I was worried that all of my feelings were just because I was worried about him and that we had always been close. But even after I had fully realised it, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” trying to act like he wasn’t about to break down into shuddering nerves. Trying to stop the hysterical laughter that he wants to release. Break the tension in his chest. “He wasn’t happy, and I was afraid it would just be pressure - like, if he rejected my feelings, he’d lose another friend. Or worse, him only accepting because he felt he had to. I couldn’t -”  
  
Was he sounding crazy? He was probably sounding crazy. Rin looks alarmed, either way.  
  
Their forgotten English papers litter across the table, and he can barely remember why they started talking about this. At least Haru hadn’t come back down yet, collected after the earlier fight.  
  
Instead, Rin has a hand on his back, patting somewhat awkwardly in his best attempt at comforting. Makoto really does laugh at that.  
  
“You’re right. You aren’t great at comforting people.”  
  
“Shut up. At least I’m trying,” grinning in encouragement.  
  
“That’s true,” smiling back. Not large, but genuine. “It’s even working.”  
  
“Glad to hear.” Pausing for a moment before he continues. “You should tell him, Makoto. Don’t be afraid of things that haven’t happened.”  
  
“I will, Rin,” appreciating his friend’s concern. It helps with the panic that had been building. “Someday.”  
  
It’s not so much a promise, but he is telling the truth.  
  
Someday he’ll tell Haru how much he feels for him. He’d decided to years ago, really.  
  
Just not now.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been far too long!! I hope this chapter finds everyone in good health. With chapter, we've finally (finally) hit the first season of the anime.
> 
> The nightmare scene is one I had planned from the very beginning - you could say it was an inspiration for this whole fic starting, haha. After so long, it was a challenge to get it how I wanted it, but I think I captured the emotions I wanted fully.
> 
> I've recently made a [twitter](https://twitter.com/WritingGee) dedicated to my writing, and I hope to post updates on there. Feel free to follow me there, if you'd like! I'm working very hard to prevent such long breaks between chapters in the future.
> 
> If you like what you read and want to support me just a little, you can buy me a coffee [here](https://ko-fi.com/geewrites) (but don't feel obliged).
> 
> Thank you all, as always, for your patience. See you next chapter!


	19. 18 pt 1

Makoto can’t help how his skin itches under the anticipation of preparing for take off. He’s never been on a plane before, and the rush of excitement surrounding him is a solid reminder that he isn’t the only one. Their class trip is Tokyo, as expected; and even if he wasn’t surrounded by rows of his peers on every side, the warm buzz would still be there. Checking and re-checking his seatbelt as he tries to preoccupy himself from nervous what-ifs, the sweet-looking stewardesses gives a knowing smile before running through the safety procedures.

The lone spot of calm amongst the group of teens is Haru, sitting with his head propped up on one hand, blue eyes focused somewhere on the tarmac. Years of travel between Iwatobi and his parents’ apartment has gotten him used to the short flight, and Makoto can’t help but wonder if his best friend was ever as excited, nervous, overwhelmed, as he is right now. He can’t help jiggling his leg as the plane starts to move toward flying, and all of a sudden they’re leaving Itami Airport behind - moving from endless cityscapes to blue skies and white clouds.

A girl sitting behind them chats loudly to her neighbour as they go through the itinerary, and the rustle of snacks being shared around prevents any sort of peace settling around the cabin. Haru moves to stretch out a little and undoes his seatbelt, Finger pressing the call button before looking to Makoto.

“Want anything to drink?”

“I’m OK, but thanks, Haru-chan,” his best friend huffing in annoyance at the nickname.

It’s barely a half-minute before a kind-looking woman comes to see what Haru needs, and he asks for two glasses of water. Makoto can feel himself smirking a little, but the freestylist just replies with, “one glass isn’t enough.”

She returns soon after, a cup in each hand, and Haru nods in thanks. Setting down the two tiny cups, Makoto understands his friend’s foresight of ordering two. Tray table folding down, Makoto tries to avoid knocking it with an elbow as he shifts.

“You can take your seatbelt off, you know. It’s more comfortable.”

Unclicking the metal latch, it does ease his movement up as he shifts position with his hips, legs freer to stretch into the aisle.

“These seats are pretty small, don’t you think, Haru?”

“Doesn’t help that you’re a giant.” He just laughs at the tease, feeling the burn of blush even though he’s had years to get used to the realities of being so tall. Haru curls a little as he moves his back to lean against the windowed wall. “That’s why I gave you the aisle seat.”

The rest of their classmates are busy in their own conversations, and Makoto is surprised that a plane full of high schoolers is so relatively calm, now that the general excitement of flying has worn off.

“We have a free day on Wednesday, Haru. Are you going to try and see your parents?”

  
“I saw them Golden Week,” sipping at his glass of water quietly, like he's wondering over what Makoto’s said. “But Mom said she wants to treat us to lunch if we have the time.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

Shaking his head with half a huff, “she wants to see you more than me. She sees me all the time.”

Jostling his best friend with an elbow as he chuckles, blue eyes narrow as the small cup of water threatens to spill in the sudden movement. “Careful.”

“You know that’s not true, though, Haru,” moving his leg with a smile, distracted, as one of the girls from class four heads to the bathroom. “Of course she wants to see you.”

Haru doesn’t reply to that, just rolling his eyes as the clouds continue to pass by. “I'll tell her we'll both be free.”

 

*

 

The first day of the trip is spent at historic sites and wandering the area around the hotel. He and Haru are sharing a room with two other boys, and they spend most nights chatting about how much the stress of their final year is only going to get worse in the next few months; futures too close for comfort.

Their free day has both Haru and he visiting the Nanase’s in their small Tokyo apartment, before being treated to lunch at a local restaurant Nanase-san had been recommended by a colleague. The two-bedroom apartment Haru’s parents are now living in is a far cry from their lovely seaside home back in Iwatobi; but everything in Tokyo, Makoto found, was more confined, claustrophobic, than the open skies and seas of Iwatobi bay.

They have more time alone after lunch when both of the Nanase’s have to return to work, so they take the opportunity to wander around the Mita campus of Keio University - only 15 minutes away by the train, enveloped in its own pocket of green. There are only a handful of schools on this part of the campus, and nothing that Makoto has really been considering for his own studies, but it’s nice to get a taste of what university life would be like. Groups of students chat beneath the shady trees overhead or walk from class to class in the warm afternoon. The European-style library the university is known for rises high in arches and windows as they pass, an echo of a bygone era.

They stand out - both in high school uniforms, as is required - so it’s barely any time that they spend wandering before a helpful student asks if they’re lost, or if they’re looking for a particular faculty.

They’re outsiders looking into a different world like this really, but it’s exciting and filled with an energy Makoto has never experienced at Iwatobi before.

The cool green path that winds them around the campus grounds are beautiful, and Makoto has the urge to take Haru’s hand in his as they walk. He stuffs it into his pocket instead.

 

* * *

 

The flight to Sydney is long, far longer than any of his short trips to Tokyo have been, and Haru finds himself overwhelmed by the sheer mass of people in the international terminal. Despite having arrived hours ago, their connecting flight means that he’s unwillingly been hanging around the airport for the best part of the evening. Rin tried and failed early on to keep him preoccupied with stories of his host family, but Haru just wants to be left alone. They’re leaving Haneda in the middle of the night, but plenty of people still look awake and excited as the departure gate starts preparing for their flight. A group of girls sit together, flipping through cameras at their pictures, and Rin strikes up a conversation with them in English as they wait to board. Haru just sits, silent, hoping they can be seated soon so he can get some sleep. It hurts to be in Tokyo, after the revelation he’d had last night, like the city was stealing another person Haru cares about; sharp pain in his chest whenever he recalls the frenzied rush of sadness and anger he’d felt, seen, under the dying light of the fireworks.

Rin sits to his side by the window once they finally get to their seats, readjusting a travel pillow with his air earphones in, slouching down the economy seats in his sweats. There is a choice of both domestic and foreign subtitled films available in the media centre in front of him, but he can’t force himself to care. The fight with Makoto still fresh in his mind, the small seat does nothing to comfort him as he tries to make up for the sleepless night before. His eyes sting raw from crying, irritated against the in-flight air conditioning, and it takes a lot of willpower to keep himself from just curling up into his provided blanket entirely, head ducked to his knees. A stewardess comes down the aisle just after takeoff to offer a late dinner, but Haru can’t stomach food that smells like microwaving and looks like a coagulated mess despite not eating all day.

Sometime between waking and touchdown, their breakfast is offered in much the same way, and Haru has to force himself to finish the small cup of fruit that accompanies the saddest scrambled eggs he’s seen. Rin gets up to go to the bathroom, and chats with one of the same girls he had been the night before on the way back, seated three rows behind. Haru can hear his name being said, but he absolutely refuses to look back at his friend. He buzzes for the stewardess, hoping for more water, and Rin grabs a second orange juice. They haven’t talked much in this whole 12-hour escapade, but Haru dreads the moment they will. Heading to Australia, with little English and no desire to see any of the sights is less daunting than counting down the seconds until Rin decided to breach the looming topic of Makoto, or the future, or anything outside of this crazy, impulsive trip to another country. Touchdown jolts him from his self-retreat, and he sucks in a breath before readjusting his backpack and leaving the plane.

His head is pounding with a deep-seated headache, and standing stranded under the fluorescents of Sydney airport does nothing to help him figure out what question he’s supposed to be answering. It’s still fairly early morning, and he had managed some sleep on the way, but he was weary and tired and ready to be done with interacting with people. Wordlessly following Rin through the unfamiliar corridors to find their luggage and then public transport.

Sydney is sunny and welcoming, but Haru can’t feel happy about it.

 

*

 

They’re lying either side of each other on the queen-sized bed, Haru’s eyes following the slow turn of the fan above them. Rin huffs again in annoyance - one arm flopping to hang off the bed in an attempt at the now-subdued argument against the sleeping arrangements.

“Stop complaining, Rin. It’s not like I steal blankets or anything.”

“It’s just annoying that I’m stuck sharing a mattress with a wet fish.” His arm wiggles again and manages to smack Haru’s side, annoyingly punctuating his words.

“Hey!”

“And how do you know you don’t steal blankets?” the redhead bites back. “Who’re you sharing beds with?”

It’s a pointless argument, but the irritation of the day and the lingering hurt from the fireworks riles him up much faster than he expects. “No one. I just know I’m not clingy, like you.” Hoping he’s annoyed his friend with that, as much as the wet fish comment annoyed him. “Clingy people steal blankets.”

“What, like Makoto?” A heavy silence falls, the topic finally being breached. Haru knows he can’t avoid it any longer now his best friend has finally been mentioned. The passing mention on the beach had already been enough to rip open the still-raw wounds on his pride and security, and Haru lets his breath out slower in an attempt to stay calm. It doesn’t help. Rin stays quiet for a beat before hesitantly continuing, shifting his head to look at Haru. Haru pointedly does not look back.

“I messaged him when we arrived, y’know, to tell him we got here safe. I think he told your parents for you.”

“Thanks.” He doesn’t want to admit or say it, but he is thankful for that thoughtfulness - even though he knows it will just lead him into a conversation he doesn’t want to have.

“Can I ask?” Rin’s voice is quiet, but in the relative silence of the room and Haru’s short fuse, it feels like he’s screaming. He feels the last of his patience snap.

“About what? I’m sure you two have been talking all about me,”

“Hey! Haru, it’s not like - ”

“Not like what?” Sitting up now, sharply, to look down at his friend. “Not like you expected me to make any sort of decision on my own? Not like you ever expected me to think about anything else but swimming?” They’re stinging words, meant to hurt, and he frowns at Rin’s grimace.

“What, are you surprised now? Not all of us can have dreams and goals just handed to us like you Rin.” He doesn’t want to admit he’s a failure and a coward. That under pressure he cracks and lets down everyone who matters.

“Then what about Makoto, huh? You think it was easy for him to make the decision to go to Tokyo?”

“Who cares.” That one feels like he’s pulling his own chest open - ribs shattering against his cold tone and soft organs being squeezed.

That’s what finally makes Rin snap, eyes blazing as he sits up to Haru’s level.  “He cares! And I know you care, Haru!” Punching the mattress beside him, he looks furious. “Fuck!”

“No matter what I say, he’ll be leaving after graduation.” It feels like the truth - full of poison and sadness, dripping from his own mouth. “I don’t know what’s so great about Tokyo, anyway.” First his parents, now Makoto. What else could the city take from him now?

“He was afraid of always chasing you without ever reaching you, Haru. He wanted to make a decision that was hard for him, but knew would be worth it.” Rin looks like he’s trying to recall a past conversation, face scrunching up around the hurt and anger bubbling. He looks like he wants to punch something. “Do you really think it was easy for him to make a choice that meant not having you around?”

“Probably.”

“Fuck you.” He really does punch Haru then, against the jaw. The tingling pain the only thing Haru can feel in the numbness of his body. “Are you really that dense, you idiot? You better never fucking say that to Makoto, or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Why do you care so much?”  
  
“Because you’re both my friends, and Makoto doesn’t deserve any of your weak-ass bullshit.” Voice low in warning, dangerous. “You’re the most important thing to him, Haru. I can’t believe you wouldn’t know that.”

It feels like Rin is taunting him to say something else stupid enough to warrant another punch, but Haru just wants this all to be _over_.

“Makoto has so many other people he should care about other than me - his parents, the twins, Nagisa and Rei and Kou. All those friends he has.”

“And yet, here we are, you ungrateful bastard.” Flopping back down on the bed as the immediate urge to punch and kick leaves, but still ready for a fight. Sharp teeth shine in the light of stores outside, and he looks more like a shark than ever. “I’m sure if you were back in Iwatobi, you wouldn’t have made it out of bed yet. Ignoring the issue, like always.”

“What does that have anything to do with it? I didn’t ask you to drag me along.”

“No, but Makoto was worried about you. Is worried about you. We all are, man”

He slumps in defeat, fight finally escaping him as his emotions weigh him down heavier. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

Plane seats are still as cramped as he remembers, and Makoto works hard to keep from jostling his best friend awake in his attempt to get comfortable. Instead of Haru waking though, his head slips down, resting on Makoto’s shoulder rather than the tiny airline pillow they were given. The flight is barely an hour long, but the adrenaline of their win seems to have finally left him, and even the low chatter of other passengers and Nagisa’s bouncing in the seats in front of them doesn’t seem enough to wake the freestylist; unusual for the teen who usually slept quite lightly.

Stray hair from Haru’s fringe tickles where it’s hitting Makoto’s neck, and he can’t help brushing it back with a gentle fingertip. It feels invasive, being this close without Haru knowing his feelings, but Makoto clings to these quiet moments the closer they get to the end of the year. Sharing his plans to move to Tokyo had given a finality to their time together, and even though Haru had said he was now aiming to turn his swimming into a professional athletic career, that didn’t guarantee he would choose a university and training facility in Tokyo.

Amakata-sensei smiles softly to them both as she returns from the bathroom - hand softly touching his free shoulder before returning to her seat. Makoto tries to people watch in an attempt from getting too preoccupied on the soft breaths skittering across his skin. A lot will be changing in the coming weeks, months, but here, now, Makoto is calm and still. The subtle ache in his heart at the possibility that this might be the beginning of the end. Face turning close to his best friend’s. Barely a handful of centimetres away from touching his lips to Haru’s hairline.

Closing green eyes, he inhales deep and lingers in the faint chlorine smell of Haru's hair. Smile growing just a tiny bit, he’s in a bubble of just Makoto and Haru - the rest of the plane falling away. The intercom dings, and it feels like their flight is coming to an end. A subtle shuffle in the surrounding atmosphere.

Haru’s nose snuffles in sleep, and Makoto loves it. Loves everything about his sleeping best friend. Dark lashes delicate in sleep.

“I love you, Haru,” barely a murmur and quiet enough that no one but himself can hear the words. “I’m going to tell you soon.”

 

*

 

It’s a half-day of school when Haru breaks the news that he’s accepted an offer from Tokyo, the remnants of their small swim club spending lunch on the roof together, despite both he and Haru’s retirement from regular club duties. The facility pamphlet they sent along with the offer has all the latest amenities, and their training regimen boasts the best coaches in the country. Nagisa struggles to share with Rei as they look over the small paper, and both can’t seem to keep their excitement from exploding into their words and actions.

Makoto doesn’t want to think that he had any part of the decision, but he’s happy. Hasn’t stopped smiling since he’d heard the news. Wants to yell from the rooftops that they still have time together. That Makoto won’t be forced to leave the one person he’d do anything for. And Haru looks so happy, at peace, surrounded by his friends and good news. Blue eyes clearer than summer ocean, and smile slight but genuine.

Summer breezes keep them cool - the first hint of autumn weather just beyond the turn of the month - and it’ll be the end of their last summer as high schoolers.

The end to the summer of their dreams.

 

* * *

 

Haru had spent more time on aeroplanes this year than any other in his lifetime, but it couldn’t be avoided with his chosen university wanting to have an in-person interview with him before fully accepting him into the swimming program. He’s not too worried, as the initial scouts had seemed excited at his acceptance of the scholarship offer, and Haru can’t complain when so many people seem to want to coach him. He’ll be staying with his parents for a week in preparation for the interview and university tests - the centre tests already having passed the week before. Makoto has similar university testing next week, but chose, this time to take the bullet train there and back. Seven hours both ways, Haru wasn’t envious, but he could understand why his friend had opted to avoid another cramped flight this year.

His study notes are stacked on the fold-down tray in front of him, but the flashcards have been abandoned in favour of finding a new angle to fold his legs into. The woman next to him smiles sympathetically as she sees his study work, asking which university he was trying for. Her niece was attending Keio, she shared proudly, and Haru told her how impressed he had been with the campus, back when he and Makoto had explored it in spring. She asks about the swimming program he’ll be attending, and whether he’ll be lonely moving far from family and friends.

There are many things he’s afraid of caused by the move, kept private, close to his chest, but loneliness isn’t one of them. His parents will be a train ride away, and Makoto too, hopefully. He doesn’t tell her that; chuckling self-consciously when she beams at him, expecting. Before he can turn back to his work, she ropes him into an in-depth conversation about her own years at university - hoping he has more skills and sense in looking after himself than she did. Laughing lightly when she shares, scandalised, the time she and her boyfriend at the time had only had natto to eat for a week after they had spent their week’s budget on an over-indulgent evening drinking with their club’s senpai. Espousing to him, in all her wisdom, the dangers of dating - then breaking up with - people you had assigned group work with. Her grin growing at every humoured huff or shocked laugh he shared over the course of the hour.

Needless to say, the flight is not very productive when it comes to his studying.

 

*

 

The actual day of graduation passes by in a haze. The speeches are boring and Haru’s always hated assemblies at the best of time - least of all at graduation when the principal and teachers get long-winded about the future and responsibility and growing up. He can hear one of the girls sniffling back tears as they stand in their lines waiting for their graduation certificates, and that quiet crying is the thing that grounds it all in reality for him - that today is really the last he’ll have as a high schooler. A month from now he’ll be moving into a Tokyo apartment 10 minutes from his training campus. He’d been offered a place in the dorms, but he’d much preferred his own space, despite the extra expense.

The valedictorian is sharing her speech - familiar and exact, she thanks the staff and fellow students for the wonderful years at Iwatobi High School. Cameras are flashing and parents are whispering amongst themselves. He can see Ama-chan-sensei fighting off tears as her first homeroom class graduates. The speeches drag on with the mayor, new student council president and well-known alumni all saying their piece about the graduating students and the pride of the school.

Despite feeling like the formalities take half a lifetime, he isn’t fully prepared for when they start calling names in alphabetical order. They’re lined up, and Haru can’t seem to pay attention to anything but putting one foot in front of the other on his slow journey to receiving his own certificate. It’s only when Nakazawa, a petite girl from class one steps up to receive hers that Haru realises he’s made it to the front of the line. The sea of students watching blur as his name is called, and he bows to the principal as he takes the printed card in hand and lingers slightly for the photographer to take a picture. His parents are somewhere in the back rows, likely clapping and crying with the rest of the invited parents. He can hear Nagisa shout his congratulations across the hall, and despite himself, Haru smiles and waves at the antics. He leaves the stage before lining back up, dutifully waiting for the rest of his peers to get their own diploma. He claps and smiles when Makoto finally steps on stage for his own, and Haru smiles wider when his best friend’s gaze finds him in the crowd. Unexpected warmth fills his chest, and despite everything, he’s going to miss this place. He’d never had a huge attachment to the high school, but knowing this would be his last day of the white button down and black slacks and blazer of his uniform, no more maintenance needed for the pool, no more class cleanup every Thursday and Saturday, made him strangely nostalgic.

He’d never walk home along the bay shore, weighed down by homework and participating in a half-conversation with his best friend and neighbour in the same way.

Never have to puzzle through Amakata-sensei’s muddled sayings whilst trying to find her point.

Never sit around the rooftop, fighting to prevent his bento from disappearing into Nagisa’s mouth.

The last certificate is handed to a classmate he’s never spoken to, and there’s only one more thing before they’ll be formally farewelled. The piano starts and the words are familiar despite never having paid much attention to the practices the past month. _Aogeba Tōtoshi_ is not a long song, and Haru’s never claimed any talent at singing, but the words resonate and echo in the hall as the graduating class sings.

_And I will never forget all the wonderful things I have learned from you._

_Now is the time to say goodbye, with an eternally grateful heart._

The song ends and they finally shuffle out into the courtyard, met by younger students as they present them with graduating gifts and charms. The good luck pin he finds in his hand is placed there by a small girl with bobbed hair. Brown eyes bright as she smiles at him. A “congratulations, and good luck with your future Nanase-senpai. We’ll all be cheering for your success,” making him pause at the kind sentiment.

Once the younger students disperse, the surrounds shatter into noise of happiness and sadness. Groups of girls sobbing as they hug each other, guys negging each other fondly over their good behaviour during the ceremony, and parents trying to get their kids to take photographs to mark the occasion.

He finds Makoto wedged between some girls saying their goodbyes, and the Tachibana’s waiting for their son’s attention to be freed from his classmates. Makoto has always been popular with his peers, so it’s hardly a surprise so many people are giving him a proper goodbye and well-wishes for the future. It’s no secret he’ll be attending university in Tokyo, after all. Makoto shakes his head apologetically to a couple girls before they laugh and shrug. Haru’s just far enough that he doesn’t know what was said, but he doesn’t want to interrupt. Seeing his own parents next to Makoto’s, he heads to join them, sure they want photos.

His mother hugs him tight before pulling back to smile and peck his cheek. His father shaking his hand before pulling him into his own hug. “We’re proud of you, Haruka,” they both say, and the words are warm as he accepts them. He hadn’t always thought himself deserving of pride, but it feels right, in the moment. It’s only a second after he’s released from his parents’ embrace that Makoto’s mother bundles him up in her own arms, crying openly in happiness. She’s soft and warm, and her wet cheeks barely make it past his collar, but he returns it just as fiercely as he did with his own parents. “I’m so happy and excited of the both of you,” she shares. “But I’ll miss having my boys around.”

He can’t think of anything to respond with that would hold even a fraction of what he’s feeling, and is saved from having to say anything more after his “thank you,” when she grins at him, widely, understanding. Pushing him out of her arms, he finds himself next to Makoto - pink-cheeked and green eyes sparkling - smiling to him. They take photos and more photos. The cherry blossoms are beautiful, and the spot where Makoto’s hand is rested on his shoulder tingles under the touch. He laughs when Makoto gets a petal stuck in his hair, and smacks him lightly with his diploma when he complains about Haru taking it out. It’s so easy, like this. He’s not ready for it to be over.

It feels like they’ve been standing in the courtyard for hours when Makoto turns to him, their parents preoccupied with gushing over the two graduates and the ceremony, asking him if he’d like to come to the roof with him. His face is so soft, and he sounds like he’s choking on a sob when Haru agrees, and they walk hand-in-hand to the rooftop stairwell. It’s peaceful being in the school when no one else is, and it feels like they really are the only two in the world at this moment. The door swings open, afternoon sun warming the entire area even though the wind is strong for spring.

Makoto walks to the railing, gaze far away as he looks to the town of Iwatobi bay spread in front of them.

“This is my favourite spot in the whole school. It’s like I can see the town from end to end here, and everyone I care about. It's comforting.”

“That’s really nice.” It’s a beautiful sentiment, and Haru understands wanting to keep Iwatobi close as they take steps into a new future.

“I’ll probably miss this view a lot,” green eyes still trained on the horizon as Haru waits for him to continue, trying to see as far as his friend. “It might seem stupid, but lunches here were always my favourite, Haru.” Haru shakes his head at the thought; they were his favourite too. The wind picks up, and the ends of their blazers flap along with the swing of their ties. It’s cool and refreshing against his skin, and Makoto takes a deep breath of it like he’s about to dive. “Standing here makes me feel like I’m at the top of the world. That I can do anything, so I want to. I want to tell you, Haru, whilst I still have this feeling.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so just blinks back. Makoto has turned to him now, looking straight at him, bright against the clear skies of their graduation. Haru is nervous, anticipatory, but has to know what it is that Makoto wants to say. There’s a breathless moment of silence in the world - when even the birds and winds stop in respect - before Makoto smiles again. The softest, most vulnerable thing Haru thinks he’s ever seen. He wants to protect it forever, the best way he can.

“I love you, Nanase Haruka. I always have.” Not a hint of anything but the rawest truth being shared. Makoto opening himself up completely in front of Haru; trusting him with this. With something so fragile and beautiful and precious that Haru knew he didn’t deserve them. “And I always will.”

Haru can’t speak. There’s nothing he can say to the vision that is his best friend, strong as he stands backlit on the roof. Makoto always having been the brave one between them.

He's staring into eyes so green, so bright, he couldn't believe.  
  
And it's only then that he fully realises; this is his best friend, his closest friend, Makoto.  
  
And he loves him.  
  
Loves him with every ounce of his being, with every beat of his heart; and it hits like a freight train. He never wants to say goodbye to Makoto, to this moment, because he needs him - more than water, or swimming, or a promising career in Tokyo. He steps closer, closing the gap between them, and Makoto’s hands move to catch him as he staggers forwards, clumsily. They’re so gentle, always so gentle, and Haru reaches his own hand to run his fingers through the short hair at the back of his head. There’s concern around the edges of his best friend as more time passes and Haru hasn’t said anything. Resting his forehead on a broad shoulder as he finds his ability to form words again, Haru takes a shaky breath to prevent the reflexive tears that bubbled up at Makoto’s confession and his own realisation. Tilting back, blue eyes locking to green, Haru feels himself open up too. The shadowy corners of himself he’s always been afraid to leave vulnerable to the outside world, but he feels nothing in this moment aside from just how _right_ it all feels to be here, with Makoto, close.  
  
“I hope one day to be worth giving your feelings to, Makoto.  But please, let me keep them until I am.”

 

* * *

 

The plane is just as cramped as always, and Makoto shuffles to make sure the stewardesses can pass with their trolleys. Tokyo is barely half an hour away, and Makoto can’t help smiling at the soft tingle that zaps along his skin whenever his leg brushes against Haru’s.  
  
They’re hoping to be settled into their new apartments by the end of the week, but Makoto will be staying at Haru’s until the majority of his boxes arrive from the courier the day after tomorrow - Haru’s mostly done thanks to his parents helping set up. Haru has a bed and a spare futon, according to his parents; but Makoto’s secretly hoping his boyfriend will invite him to share the bed, even if it’s a tight squeeze. It’s been a long time since they’ve been able to sleep side-by-side like they had during childhood, but there’s nothing more he’d love than feeling the steady heartbeat of his best friend next to him. Humming a little at his silly fantasy, he just smiles a little wider as thin fingers interlock with his own across the armrest.  
  
“We’re almost there, Haru,” rubbing his nose against the other boy’s cheek when the swimmer leans over to get closer; a ghost of a kiss on his temple. “Are you as excited as I am?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, finally, the new chapter is here! I hope you all enjoy, and with this, we're finally at post-canon (aside from the short upcoming bits in Take Your Marks). This chapter was hard to write in many ways, because there was so much, emotionally, in Eternal Summer to unpack. I hope this was worth the wait.
> 
> With this chapter we also have the start of Makoto and Haru's romantic relationship - something that has certainly been a long time coming. Thank you everyone, as always, for being so patient with this fic, and in extension, with me.
> 
> There are a multitude of graduation songs that may be sung by students in Japan, but I found [Aogeba Tōtoshi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbgKWloZ8Yw) the most fitting for this story, and everything Haru was feeling. Please take a listen to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WritingGee)!


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